
ass yRini 

Rnnt .7)57 



]67)€f 



WITH A PREFACE BY 
THE REY. CHARLES KEMBLE, M.A. 

RECTOR "OP RATH 




LOND OK. 

Seeley, Jackson and Haliiday, 54, Eleet Street. 
' 1864. 



.13*7 



Exchange 
Western Ont. Univ. Library 

JUN 5 1939 



PREFACE. 



At the request of one, whose name, were it 
;iven, would be sufficient guarantee for the sound- 
less of the following selection of sacred poems, I 
lave examined the manuscript as it has been pre- 
pared for the press. The fulfilment of this pleasur- 
able task enables me to express my cordial approval 
of the selection, and my belief that few persons 
will peruse it without profit and satisfaction. 

If the present be a period in which no living 
poet of the highest order receives universal ap- 
plause, it is one in which the treasures of the past 
are carefully examined, and many a mine long ago 
regarded as exhausted, if indeed its very existence 
had not well nigh passed from memory, has been 

b 



IV PREFACE. 

anew opened and re-worked, and many a gem of 
surpassing brightness and worth has been thence 
brought into light. 

This work was undertaken for the purpose of 
placing before the Christian public a series of sa- 
cred pieces which are not usually found in books 
designed for use in Public Worship, but which for 
sentiment and poetry alike claim to be esteemed as 
' apples of gold in pictures of silver/ 

The arrangement adopted is chronological. 
The pieces are culled from the writings of various 
authors, whose names adorn the literary history of 
our country, from the reign of Queen Elizabeth to 
the present day. There is an identity of faith, of 
hope, and of joy by which all may be recognized as 
fitting media for the expression of the experience 
of the members of the one Church militant here 
on earth — the one family of God's first-born. 

A work of this kind effectively illustrates 
the communion of saints. For many successive 
generations the same inner spiritual life has been 



PREFACE. v 

affected by the same divine truths ; the saintly 
soul has been stirred by the same antagonisms of 
flesh and spirit, conscious of the same keen con- 
flict between sin and grace, drawn onward by the 
same hopes, prompted to action by the same 
aspirations, and borne aloft by the same im- 
pulsive motives. The depths of sin and misery, 
revealed by the lens of God's word and the light 
of God's Spirit, enforce from the terrified spirit the 
groanings of unutterable despair. The mighty love 
displayed on Calvary, the atoning efficacy of the 
blood of our Saviour-God there shed, when He 
made His soul an offering for sin, and died the just 
for the unjust to bring us to God, raises from the 
dust of death, dispels fear, inspires with joy and 
peace, the blessed progeny of faith, and summons 
from the joyous beholder a new song, even a 
thanksgiving to our God. The poet's appeal to his 
own heart finds a ready response in ours ; and, de- 
spite the mental activity and intellectual develop- 
ment of the 19th century, we here find ourselves 



VI PREFACE. 

on the same platform of faith and hope and love 
with those whose spiritual condition and progress 
were described centuries ago. The continuous 
stream of hallowed poesy flows on • age after age 
lifts up its voice; voice after voice takes up the 
subject with varied rhythm and in perhaps a slightly 
varied key. We listen entranced by the music of the 
successive bards as one by one they pass before us. 
And when the last cadence of the reremost has 
died away, with bated breath we listen as if to catch 
from the spirit-world the echoes of their now united 
strains, as in that land of unsullied purity and jov 
they sing their song of grat-eful praise, to Him who 
loved them, and washed them from their sins in 
His own blood, and made them kings and priests 
unto God, with whom they shall live in heavenly 
light and holiness and love for ever and ever. 

C. K. 

Bath, November n, 1863. 



CONTENTS. 



PART I. 

OLD ENGLISH : ELIZABETHAN : STUART. 



DRUMMOND. 

Now doth the sun appear 

WOTTON. 

O Thou great Power ! in whom I move 

MARDLEY. 

Lord, turn not Thy face away 
JONSON. 

1 sing the birth was born to-night 
Hear me, O God ! 

HERBERT. 

Sweet day, so cool ; so calm, so bright 
Throw away Thy rod 
My stock lies dead, and no increase 
Teach me. my God and King 
Sweetest Saviour, if my soul . . 
' When God at first made man 

CH. HARVEY. 

Great, without controversy great 



PAGE 

3 



13 
16 



vlu CONTENTS. 

DONNE. pAGE 

Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun . . 17 

SANDYS. 

God is our refuge, our strong tower .. .. 18 

WITHER. 

Who knows, when he to go from home . . 20 

Behold the sun, that seeirfd but now . . . . 21 

HERRICK. 

In the hour of my distress .. .. ..23 

KING. 

Like to the falling of a star . . . . 24 

CRASHAW. 

Lord ! what is man ? Why should he cost Thee . . 25 
On the proud banks of great Euphrates' flood . . 27 

SHIRLEY. 

The glories of our blood and state . . . . 29 

F. QUARLES. 

Wages of Sin is death : the day is come . . 30 

Ah ! whither shall I fly ? what path untrod . . 32 

J. QUARLES. 

In all extremes, Lord, Thou art still . . . . 33 

WALLER. 

The seas are quiet when the winds are o'er . . 35 

MILTON. 

When Faith and Love, which parted from thee never 36 

When I consider how my light is spent . . . . 37 

Blest pair of Syrens, pledges of heaven's joy . . 37 

BAXTER. 

Lord, it belongs not to my care . . . . 39 



CONTENTS. IX 

VAUGHAN. PAG£ 

When first thy eyes unveil, give thy soul leave . . 40 

My soul, there is a country . . . . 42 

MARVELL. 

Where the remote Bermudas ride . . 43 

ROSCOMMON (FROM TIJE LATIN). 

The last loud trumpet's wondrous sound . . 45 



PART II. 

WILLIAM AND MARY, ANNE, GEORGE I. 
AND II. 

DRYDEN. 

Creator Spirit, by whose aid . . . . . . 49 

KEN. 

My God, to keep my heart . . . . 51 

TATE. 

Bless God, my soul ! — Thou, Lord, alone . . 52 

ADDISON. 

The Lord my pasture shall prepare . . 54 

DODDRIDGE. 

Interval of grateful shade . . . . 55 

CENNICK. 

Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone . . . , 58 

JOHN BYROM. 

My spirit longeth for Thee . . . . 59 



X 



CONTENTS. 



ANNE STEELE. 

My God, my Father, blissful name 
HART. 

Jesus, while He dwelt below 

OLIVERS. 

The God of Abraham praise 

SEAGRAVE. 

Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings 

J. WESLEY (FROM TERSTEEGEN). 

Thou hidden Love of God, whose height 

J. WESLEY (FROM THE GERMAN). 

I thirst, Thou wounded Lamb of God . . . . 

J. WESLEY (FROM COUNT ZINZENDORF). 

Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness 

J. WESLEY (FROM SCHEFFLER). 

Thee will I love, my strength and tower 

J. WESLEY (FROM GERHARDT). 

Give to the winds thy fears . . 

J. WESLEY (FROM BISHOP A. G. SPANGENBERG 

High on His everlasting throne 

J. WESLEY (FROM PAUL GERHARDT). 

Commit thou all thy griefs 

C. WESLEY. 

Thou God of glorious majesty 
No, I would not always live 
Come, O Thou Traveller unknown 
I the good fight have fought 
Help, Lord, to whom for help I fly 
Christ, whose glory fills the skies 



PAGE 

61 



62 



66 



70 



71 



73 



75 



77 



78 



80 



86 
88 
8 9 
92 

93 
94 



CONTENTS. 

Weary of wandering from my God 
Shrinking from the cold hand of death . . 
In age and feebleness extreme 

GAM.BOLD. 

So many years I've seen the sun 

That I am Thine, my Lord and God . . 



XI 

PAGE 
95 

97 



PART III. 

PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 



MOSES BROWNE (FROM THE GERMAN) 

'Tis not too hard, too high an aim 

GRIGG. 

Jesus, and shall it ever be 

TOPLADY. 

Happiness ! thou lovely name 
Lord, I feel a carnal mind 
When languor and disease invade 
Supreme High- Priest, the pilgrim's light 
O that my heart was right with Thee 

COWPER. 

The path of sorrow, and that path alone 
Oh ! for a closer walk with God 
Far from the world, O Lord ! I flee 
Weak and irresolute is man 
When darkness long has veiTd my mind 
-What various hindrances we meet 



105 

io8 

109 
in 
113 
"5 
117 

118 
120 
121 
122 
123 
125 



X11 . CONTENTS. 

COWPER (FROM MAD. GUION). page 

Long plunged in sorrow, I resign . . 126 

NEWTON. 

Quiet, Lord, my froward heart . . . , # 127 

One there is, above all others . . . . 128 

Come, my soul, Thy suit prepare .. ..130 

In every object here I see .. .. ..131 

BRUCE, PUBLISHED BY LOGAN. 

Where high the heavenly temple stands .. 132 

Behold ! the mountain of the Lord . . 1 3 3 

COUNTESS OF HUNTINGDON. 

The world can neither give nor take . . . . 1 3 5 

C. J. LATROBE (FROM BISHOP GREGOR). 

Man of sorrows, and acquainted . . ..136 

KIRKE WHITE. 

What is this passing scene ? . . . . 138 

Awake, sweet harp of Judah, wake . . 139 

Ah ! when did wisdom covet length of days . . 141 

Through sorrow's night and danger's path . . 141 

MARRIOTT. 

A saint ! Oh would that I could claim . . . . 143 

BERRIDGE. 

Jesus, cast a look on me . . . . 144 

CAMPBELL. 

When Jordan husrfd his waters still . . . . 146 

BEDDOME. 

Wait, O my soul, thy Maker's will . . 147 

BYRON. 

A spirit pass'd before me : I beheld . . 148 

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold 149 



CONTENTS. X1U 

PART IV. 

MODERN: DECEASED WRITERS. 

HEBER. page 

To conquer and to save, the Son of God . . 153 

Beneath our feet and o'er our head . . ..154 

Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore 

thee . . . . . . 155 

There was joy in heaven ! . . 157 

BOWDLER. 

Child of man, whose seed below . . 158 

R. GRANT. 

Lord of earth ! Thy forming hand . . . . 160 

From Olivet's sequester'd seats .. ..162 

KELLY. 

The God of glory dwells on high .. ..164 

O Zion ! when I think on thee . . . . 165 

JANE TAYLOR. 

There is a state unknown, unseen . . . . 166 

Come, my fond, fluttering heart . . . . 168 

S. M. WARING. 

Plead Thou — oh plead my cause ! . . 170 

How sweet shall be the incense of my prayer ! . . 172 

HEMANS. 

Leaves have their time to fall . . 173 

O lovely voices of the sky . . . . 175 

Fear was within the tossing bark . . . . 176 



XIV 



CONTENTS. 



HUIE. page 

Child of the dust ! if e'er thine eye . . . . 177 

WORDSWORTH. 

A bright-hair'd company of youthful slaves . . 179 
But whence came they who for the Saviour Lord . . 179 

Not seldom, clad in radiant vest . . . . 180 

MOORE. 

Fallen is thy throne, O Israel . . . . 181 
SCOTT. 

When Israel, of the Lord beloved . . ..183 

CROLY. 

The wind blows chill across those gloomy waves . . 183 

CONDER. 

'Tis finish'd! — Every circumstance fulfill'd .. 185 

Oh, cling not, Trembler, to life's fragile bark . . 186 

CAROLINE FRY. 

Ask the bird that soars on high . . 188 

Grace does not steel the faithful heart .. ..189 

Faith, like a simple, unsuspecting child . . 191 

LYTE. 

Dark was my lot, and long it spurn'd . . 192 

There is a safe and secret place . , . . 194 

Glorious Shepherd of the sheep .. ..195 

When at thy footstool, Lord, I bend . . 196 

Abide with me ! Fast falls the eventide . . . . 197 

MONTGOMERY. 

Friend after friend departs . . . . 199 

The days and years of time are fled . . , . 200 

Prayer is the souPs sincere desire . . . . 202 

O God unseen, but not unknown . . . . 204 

Oh ! where shall rest be found . . . . 206 



CONTENTS. XV 

PAGE 

Servant of God, well done ! . . . . 207 

This shadow on the dial's face . . . . 209 

Hail to the Lord's Anointed . . . . . . 211 

HANKINSON. 

Come, see the place where Jesus lies . . . . 213 

E. B. BROWNING. 

Of all the thoughts of God that are . . . . 215 

The Saviour look'd on Peter. Ay, no word . . 217 
It is a place where poets crown'd may feel the heart's 

decaying , . . . . . ..219 

mc cheyne. 

When this passing world is done . . . . 224 



PART V. 

MODERN : LIVING AND ANONYMOUS WRITERS. 

TRENCH. 

Lord, many times I am a-weary quite . . 229 

Some murmur, when their sky is clear . . 230 

MILMAN. 

Brother, thou art gone before us . . . . 231 

KEBLE. 

Hues of the rich unfolding morn . . . . 233 

'Tis gone, that bright and orbed blaze . . 235 

Thou thrice denied, yet thrice beloved . . . . 238 

" Lord, and what shall this man do ? " . . . . 240 

When God of old came down from heaven . . 242 



XVI 



CONTENTS. 



CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT. PAGE 

Just as I am, without one plea ... . 244 

CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH. 

day of* rest and gladness . . . . . . 245 

BATHURST. 

Jesus, Thy Church with longing eyes . . . , 248 
TENNYSON. 

When Lazarus left his charnel-cave . . . . 249 

Her eyes are homes of silent prayer . . . . 250 

MONSELL. 

My Father and my God .. .. ,.251 

Birds have their quiet nest . . . « . . 252 

Soon and for ever, — such promise our trust , . 254 

LATROBE. 

To love, where love is shown to me . . . . 255 

Fair sea ! whose lines of rolling wave . . . . 257 

BONAR. 

Far down the ages now . . . . . . 261 

Thy way, not mine, O Lord . . . . 264 

1 heard the voice of Jesus say .. .,265 
Where the faded flower shall freshen . . . . 266 
My God, it is not fretfulness . . . . 269 
Yes, for me, for me, He careth . . . . 270 

NEALE (FROM THE LATIN). 

For thee, O dear, dear country . . . . 272 

(from anatolius). 

The day is past and over . . . , . . 276 
Fierce was the wild billow ; dark was the night . . 277 

(FROM STEPHEN OF SABA) . 

Art thou weary ? art thou languid . . . . 278 



CONTENTS. 



XVII 



ANSTICE. 

Sweet is the Spirit's strain 

J. D. BURNS. 

Thou art gone up on high 

O Thou, whose tender feet have trod . . 

ANNA L. WARING. 

Father, I know that all my life 

Lord, a happy child of Thine 

In heavenly love abiding 

Though some good things of lower worth 

CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER. 

The roseate hues of early dawn 
SEARS. 

It came upon the midnight clear 

WILLIAMS (FROM THE LATIN). 

Why for thy Lord dost thou thus weep and mourn 
And Thou art growing up, O Child divine ! 

FROM THE LATIN. 

He wept by Lazarus' grave — how will He bear 
Who hath believed our report ? to whom 
Whither, Saul, this raging sense 

ANONYMOUS. 

My soul, amid this stormy world 

Left in her little room alone 

There lies a little lonely isle . . 

Never further than Thy cross 

One Priest alone can pardon me 

Knell of departed years 

In Jesu's book I bear 

The world with stones, instead of bread 

Who laughs at sin, laughs at his Maker's frowns 



PAGE 

279 

281 

282 

283 

285 
287 
288 

289 

290 

292 
293 

294 

295 
297 



300 
302 
305 
306 
308 
310 
311 
312 



XV111 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Walk in the light ! so shalt thou know . . 3 1 3 

With tearful eyes I look around . . 314 
Thou knowest, Lord, the weariness and sorrow . . 315 

God calling yet ! and shall I never hearken . . 317 

Yes, our Shepherd leads, with gentle hand . . 318 

My heart is fiVd, O God, my strength . . . . 319 

Lo ! at Thy feet Thy children fall . . 320 

Near me, O my Saviour, stand . . ..322 

Change is our portion here . . . . 323 

Hope of the coming glory . . . . 3 24 

I have a heritage of joy . . . . , . 325 

Love craves the presence and the sight . . . . 326 

One sweet but solemn thought . . ^28 



FIRST PART. 

OLD ENGLISH : ELIZABETHAN : STUART. 




THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



FIRST PART. 



THE DAY STAR. 




|OW doth the sun appear, 

The mountain's snow decav, 
Crown' d with frail flowers forth comes 
the infant year : 
My soul, Time posts away ; 
And thou yet in that frost 
Which flower and fruit hath lost, 

As if all here immortal were, dost stay ! 
For shame ! thy powers awake ; 
Look to that heaven which never night makes 

black, 
And there at that immortal Sun's bright rays, 
Deck thee with flowers which fear not rage of days. 

Drumrnond. 



THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



YOUR LIFE IS HID WITH CHRIST IN GODj 



ehi 



THOU great Power ! in whom I move, 

For whom I live, to whom I die, 
Behold me through thy beams of love, 
Whilst on this couch of tears I lie ; 
And cleanse my sordid soul within 
By thy Christ's blood, the bath for sin. 

No hallowed oils^ no grains I need, 
No rags of saints, no purging fire; 

One rosy drop from David's seed, 

Was worlds of seas to quench Thine ire ; 

Oh precious ransom ! which once paid, 

That " Consummahtm est " was said ; — 

And said by Him, that said no more, 
But seaPd it with His sacred breath : 

Thou then, that hast dispunged my score, 
And, dying, wast the death of death, 

Be to me now, on Thee I call, 

My life, my strength, my joy, my all ! 

IVoiton. 




ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 



A CONTRITE HEART THOU WILT NOT DESPISE. 

LORD, turn not Thy face away 
From him that lieth prostrate ; 
Lamenting sore his sinful life, 
Before Thy mercy- gate ; 

Which gate Thou openest wide to those 

That do lament their sin : 
Shut not that gate against me, Lor J, 

But let me enter in. 

And call me not to mine account, 

How I have lived here; 
For then, I know right well, O Lord, 

How vile I shall appear. 

I need not to confess my life, 

For surely Thou canst tell 
What I have been, and what I am, 

T know Thou know'st it well. 

So come I to Thy mercy-gate, 

Where mercy doth abound, 
Requiring mercy for my sin, 

To heal my deadly wound. 



THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Mercy, O Lord ! mercy I ask : 

This is the total sum ; 
For mercy, Lord, is all my suit ; 

Lord, let Thy mercy come ! 



THE NATIVITY. 



Mardley. 




SING the birth was born to-night, 
The Author both of life and light, 
The Angels so did sound it. 
And like the ravish' d shepherds said, 
Who saw the light, and were afraid, 
Yet searched, and true they found it. 

The Son of God, the Eternal King, 
That did us all salvation bring, 

And freed the soul from danger ; 
He whom the whole world could not take, 
The Word, which heaven and earth did make, 

Was now laid in a manger. 

The Father's wisdom wilPd it so ; 
The Son's obedience knew no NO ; 

Both wills were of one stature. 
And as that wisdom had decreed, 
The Word was now made flesh indeed, 

And took on Him our nature. 



ELIZABETHAN : STUART. 

What comfort by Him do we win, 
Who made Himself the price of sin, 

To make us heirs of glory ! 
To see this Babe, all innocence, 
A martyr born in our defence ; 

Can man forget this story ? 



A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER. 



EAR me, O God ! 
A broken heart 
9_ Is my best part : 
Use still Thy rod, 
That I may prove 
Therein, Thy love. 

If Thou hadst not 
Been stern to me, 
But left me free, 

I had forgot 

Myself and Thee ; 

For sin 's so sweet, 

As minds ill bent 

Rarely repent, 
Until they meet 

Their punishment. 



Jonson. 



THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Who more can crave 

Than Thou hast done ? 

Thou gav'st a Son 
To free a slave : 

First made of nought ; 

Withal since bought, 

Sin, death, and hell 

His glorious name 

Quite overcame; 
Yet I rebel, 

And slight the same. 

But I'll come in 

Before my loss 

Me farther toss, 
As sure to win 

Under His cross. 

Jonson. 




WEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 

The bridal of the earth and sky, 
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; 
For thou must die. 



ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 

Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave 

Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, 
Thy root is ever in its grave, 
And thou must die. 

Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, 

A box where sweets compacted lie, 
My music shows ye have your closes, 
And all must die. 

Only a sweet and virtuous soul, 

Like seasoned timber, never gives; 
But though the whole world turn to coal, 
Then chiefly lives. 



Herbert. 



HAVING COMPASSION ON OUR INFIRMITIES. 

THROW away Thy rod, 
Throw away thy wrath ; 
O my God, 
Take the gentle path. 

For my heart's desire 
Unto Thine is bent : 

I aspire 
To a full consent. 




lO THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Not a word or look 
I affect to own, 
But by book, 
And Thy book alone. 

Though I fail, I weep : 
Though I halt in pace, 

Yet I creep 
To the throne of grace. 

Then let wrath remove ; 
Love will do the deed : 

For with love 
Stony hearts will bleed. 

Love is swift of foot : 
Love 's a man of war, 

And can shoot, 
And can hit from far. 

Who can { scape his bow ? 
That which wrought on Thee, 

Brought Thee low, 
Needs must work on me. 

Throw away Thy rod ; 
Though man frailties hath, 

Thou art God : 
Throw away Thy wrath. 

Herbert. 



ELIZABETHAN: STUART. II 



" FROM WHOM COMETH EVERY GOOD AND 
PERFECT GIFT." 




Y stock lies dead, and no increase 

Doth my dull husbandry improve ; 
O let Thy graces, without cease, 
Drop from above ! 

If still the sun should hide his face, 

Thy house would but a dungeon prove, 
Thy works night's captives : O let grace 
Drop from above ! 

The dew doth every morning fall ; 

And shall the dew outstrip Thy Dove ? 
The dew, for which grass cannot call, 
Drops from above. 

Death is still working like a mole, 

And digs my grave at each remove : 
Let grace work too, and on my sou* 
Drop from above. 

Sin is still hammering my heart, 
Unto a hardness, void of love : 
Let suppling grace, to cross his art, 
Drop from above. 



12 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

O come, for Thou dost know the way ; 

Or, if to me Thou wilt not move, 
Remove me where I need not say, — 
Drop from above. 

Herbal. 



" DOING ALL TO THE GLORY OF GOD. 



EACH me, my God and King, 

In all things Thee to see, 
And what I do in anything, 



To do it as for Thee : 

Not rudely, as a beast, 
To run into an action ; 
But still to make Thee prepossest 
And give it his perfection. 

A man that looks on glass, 
On it may stay his eye ; 
Or if he pleaseth, through it pass, 
And then the heaven spy. 

All may of Thee partake : 
Nothing can be so mean, 
Which with this tincture, ' For Thy sake/' 
Will not grow bright and clean. 



ELIZABETHAN : STUART. J 

A servant with this clause 
Makes drudgery divine : 
Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws, 
Makes that and the action fine. 

This is the famous stone 

That turneth all to gold : 

For that which God doth touch and own 

Cannot for less be told. 

Herbert. 



O THE DEPTH OF THE RICHES ! 



7Z& 



WEETEST Saviour, if my soul 
Were but worth the having, 
Quickly should I then control 
Any thought of waving. 
But when all my care and pains 
Cannot give the name of gains 
To Thy wretch so full of stains, 
What delight or hope remains ? 

' What, child, is the balance thine r 
Thine the poise and measure ? 

If I say thou shalt be mine, 
Finder not mv treasure. 



1 4 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

What the gains in having thee 
Doth amount to, only He 
Who for man was sold, can see : 
That transferred the account to me/ 

But as I can see no merit 

Leading to this favour, 
So the way to fit me for it 

Is beyond my savour. 
As the reason then is Thine, 
So the way is none of mine ; 
I disclaim the whole design ; 
Sin disclaims, and I resign. 

' That is all, if that I could 

Get without repining, 
And my clay, my creature would 

Follow my designing ; 
That as I did freely part 
With my glory and desert, 
Left all joys to feel all smart ' 



Ah ! no more : thou break'st my heart ! 

Herbert. 




ELIZABETHAN: STUART. T^ 

" THE EYE IS NOT SATISFIED WITH SEEING ; 
NOR THE EAR WITH HEARING." 

j[HEN God at first made man, 
Having a glass of blessing standing by ; 
Let us, said He, pour on him all we can : 
Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie, 
Contract into a span. 

So strength first made a way : 
Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honour, plea- 
sure : 
When almost all w r as out, God made a stay, 
Perceiving that alone, of all His treasure, 

Rest, in the bottom lay. 

For if I should, said He, 
Bestow this jewel also on my creature, 
He would adore my gifts instead of me, 
And rest in nature, not the God of nature : 

So both should losers be. 

Yet let him keep the rest, 

But keep them with repining restlessness : 

Let him be rich, and weary, that at least, 

If goodness lead him not, yet weariness 

May toss him to my breast. 

Herbert. 



1 6 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



EPIPHANY. 



REAT, without controversy great, 
Thev that do know it will confess 
The mystery of godliness, 



Whereof the Gospel doth intreat. 

God in the flesh is manifest, 

And that which hath for ever been 
Invisible, may now be seen, 

The eternal Deity new drest. 

Angels to shepherds brought the news : 
And wise men guided by a star, 
To seek the sun, are come from far : 

Gentiles have got the start of Jews. 

The stable and the manger hide 

His glory from His own ; but these, 
Though strangers, His resplendent rays 

Of Majesty divine have spied. 

Gold, frankincense, and myrrh they give, 
And, worshipping Him, plainly show 
That unto Him they all things owe, 

By whose free gift it is they live. 



ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 1 7 

Though clouded in a veil of flesh, 
The Sun of righteousness appears, 
Melting cold cares, and frosty fears, 

And making joys spring up afresh. 

Oh that his light and influence 

Would work effectually in me 

Another new Epiphany, 
Exhale and elevate me hence : 

That, as my calling doth require, 
Star-like I may to others shine, 
And guide them to that Sun divine, 

Whose daylight never shall expire. 

Ch. Harvey. 




A HYMN TO THE FATHER. 

]ILT Thou forgive that sin where I begun, 
Which was my sin, though it were 
done before ? 
Wilt Thou forgive that sin, through which I run, 
And do run still, though still I do deplore ? 
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done : 
For I have more. 

2 



Io THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Wilt Thou forgive *that sin, which I have won 
Others to sin, and made my sins their door ? 
Wilt Thou forgive that sin, which I did shun 
A year or two, — but wallowM in a score ? 

When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done ; 
For I have more. 

I have a sin of fear, that when Pve spun 

My last thread, I shall perish on the shore ; 
But swear by Thyself that at my death Thy Son 
Shall shine as He shines now and heretofore; 
And having done that Thou hast done, 
I fear no more ! 

Donne. 



PSALM XLVI. 






OD is our refuge, our strong tower ; 
Securing by his mighty power, 
When dangers threaten to devour. 



Thus armM, no fears shall chill our blood, 
Though earth no longer stedfast stood, 
And shook her hills into the flood : 

Although the troubled ocean rise 
In foaming billows to the skies ; 
And mountains shake with horrid noise. 



ELIZABETHAN : STUART. 1 9 

Clear streams purl from a crystal spring, 
Which gladness to God's city bring, 
The mansion of the Eternal King. 

He in her centre takes his place : 
What foe can her fair towers deface, 
Protected by His early grace ? 

Tumultuary nations rose 

And armed troops our walls inclose, 

But His fearM voice unnerved our foes. 

The Lord of Hosts is on our side ; 

The God by Jacob magnified ; 

Our strength, on whom we have relied. 

Come, see the wonders He hath wrought ; 
Who hath to desolation brought 
Those kingdoms which our ruin sought. 

He makes destructive wars surcease ; 
The earth, deflowered of her increase, 
Restores with universal peace. 

He breaks their bows, unarms their quivers, 
The bloody spear in pieces shivers, 
Their chariots to the flame delivers. 

'Forbear, and know that I the Lord 
Will by all nations be adored ; 

Praised with unanimous accord/ 

2 * 



SO THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

The Lord of Hosts is on our side; 

The God by Jacob magnified ! 

Our strength, on Whom we have relied. 

Sandys. 



HOLD UP MY GOINGS IN THY PATHS, THAT MY 
FOOTSTEPS SLIP NOT." 



HO knows, when he to go from home, 

Departeth from his door, 
Or when or how he back shall come, 
Or whether never more. 
For some who walk abroad in health, 

In sickness back are brought ; 
And some who have gone forth with wealth, 
Have back returned with nought. 



Lord, therefore now I go abroad, 

My guard I Thee confess ; 
And humbly beg of Thee, O God, 

My going forth to bless. 
Go with me whither I would go, 

Stay with me where I stay ; 
Do for me what I ought to do, 

Speak Thou what I should say. 



ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 21 

From taking wrong, from doing harm, 

From thoughts and speeches ill, 
From passion's rage, from pleasure's charm, 

Vouchsafe to keep me still. 
Let me abroad some blessing find, 

And let no curse the while 
Befall to that I leave behind, 

My honest hopes to spoil ! 

But let my going out and in, 

My thoughts, my words, and ways, 

Be always safe, still free from sin, 
And ever to Thy praise. 

And when my pains effect shall take, 
Or times of stay are spent, 

With health and credit bring me back, 

With comfort and content. 

Wither. 



AT SUN-SETTING. 



EHOLD the sun, that seemM but now 

Enthroned overhead, 
Beginneth to decline below 
This globe on which we tread ; 




22 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

And he, whom yet we look upon 

With comfort and delight, 
Will quite depart from hence anon. 

And leave us to the night. 

Thus time, unheeded, steals away 

The life which nature gave ; 
Thus are our bodies, every day, 

Declining to the grave. 
Thus from us all those pleasures fly 

Whereon we set our heart ; 
And when the night of death draws nigh 

Thus will they all depart. 

Lord, though the sun forsake our sight, 

And mortal hopes are vain ; 
Let still Thine everlasting light 

Within our souls remain. 
And in the nights of our distress, 

Vouchsafe those rays divine 
Which from the Sun of Righteousness 

For ever brightly shine. 



Wither. 






ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 2$ 



A LITANY TO THE HOLY GHOST. 

N the hour of my distress, 
When temptations me oppress, 
And when I my sins confess, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When I lie within my bed, 
Sick in heart, and sick in head, 
And with doubts discomforted, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When the house doth sigh and weep, 
And the world is drown' d in sleep, 
Yet mine eves the watch do keep, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When the passing bell doth toll, 
And the furies in a shoal 
Come to fright a parting soul^ 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

When the flames and hellish cries 
Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes, 
And all terrors me surprise, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 



24 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

When the Judgment is reveaPd, 
And that openM which was seaPd, 
When to Thee I have appeaPd, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 

Her rick. 



"our life is even as a vapour !" 

jlIKE to the falling of a star; 

Or as the flights of eagles are; 

Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue ; 
Or silver drops of morning dew ; 
Or like a wind that chafes the flood ; 
Or bubbles which on water stood ; 
E'eri such is man, whose borrowed light 
Is straight calPd in and paid to-night. 

The wind blows out, the bubble dies, 
The spring entombM in autumn lies ; 
The dew dries up, the star is shot, 
The flight is past, and man forgot. 

King. 





ELIZABETHAN : STUART. 2j 



CHARITAS NIMIA. 

i'ORD ! what is man? Why should he cost 
Thee 
So dear ? What had his ruin lost Thee ? 
Lord, what is man, that Thou hast overbought 
So much a thing of nought ? 
Alas ! dear Lord, what were't to Thee 
If there were no such worms as we ? 
Heaven ne'er the less still heaven would be : 
Should mankind dwell 
In the deep hell, 
What have his woes to. do with Thee ? 
Let him go weep 

O'er his own wounds • 
Seraphim will not sleep, 
Nor spheres forget their faithful rounds : 
Still would those beauteous ministers of light ■ 
Burn all as bright, 
And bow their flaming heads before Thee; 
Still thrones and dominations would adore Thee : 
Still would those ever- wakeful sons of fire 
Sound forth Thy praise 
Both nights and days, 
And teach Thy loved name to their noble lyre. 



26 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Let froward dust then do its kind, 
And give itself for sport to the proud wind. 
Why should a piece of peevish clay plead shares 
In the eternity of Thy old cares ? 
Why shouldst Thou bow Thy awful head to see 
What mine own madnesses have done with me ? 
Will the resplendent sun 
E'er the less glorious run ? 
Will he hang down his golden head, 
Or e'er the sooner seek his western bed, 
Because some foolish fly 
Grows wanton and will die ? 
If I were lost in misery 
What was it to Thy heaven and Thee ? 
What was it to Thy precious blood 
If my foul heart calPd for a flood ? 
What if my faithless soul and I 
Must needs fall in 
With guilt and sin ? 
What did the Lamb that He should die ? 
What did the Lamb that He should need, 
When the wolf sins, Himself to bleed ? 
If my base lust 
Bargained with death, and well-beseeming dust, 
Why should the white 
Lamb's bosom write 



ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 2 J 

The purple name 

Of my sin's shame ? 
Why should His unstainM breast make good 
My blushes with His own heart-blood ? 

my Saviour, make me see 
How dearly Thou hast paid for me ; 
That lost again my life may prove, 
As then in death, so now in love. 

Crashaw. 

psalm cxxxvii. 

i]N the proud banks of great Euphrates' 
flood, 
There we sat, and there we wept ; 
Our harps, that now no music understood, 
Nodding on the willows slept; 
While unhappy captives we, 
Lovely Sion, thought on thee. 

They, they that snatchM us from our country's 

breast, 
Would have a song carved to their ears 
In Hebrew numbers, then, O cruel jest ! 

When harps and hearts were drown' d in tears; 
Come, they cried, come, sing and play 
One of Sion's songs to-day. 




28 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Sing ? play ? to whom, ah ! shall we sing or play, 

If not, Jerusalem, to thee ? 
Ah ! thee Jerusalem ; ah ! sooner may 
This hand forget the mastery 

Of music's dainty touch, than I 
The music of thy memory. 

Which when I lose, oh may at once my tongue 

Lose this same busy speaking art, 
Unperch'd, her vocal arteries unstrung, 
No more acquainted with my heart, 
On my dry palate's roof to rest, 
A withered leaf, an idle guest ! 

No, no, thy good, Sion, alone must crown 

The head of all my hope-nursed joys. 
But, Edom, cruel thou ! thou cried' st, Down, down, 
Sink, Sion, down, and never rise ! 

Her falling thou didst urge and thrust, 
And haste to dash her into dust. 

Dost laugh ? proud Babel's daughter ! Do, laugh on, 

Till thy ruin teach thee tears, 
Even such as these ; laugh, till a 'venging throng 
Of woes too late do rouse thy fears. 

Laugh till thy children's bleeding bones 
Weep precious tears upon the stones. 

Crashaw. 




ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 



IT IS APPOINTED UNTO ALL MExN" ONCE 
TO DIE/" 

jlHE glories of our blood and state 
Are shadows, not substantial things 
There is no armour against fate : 
Death lays his icy hands on kings ; 
Sceptre and crown 
Must tumble down, 
And in the dust be equal made 
With the poor crooked scythe and spade. 

Some men with swords may reap the field. 
And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; 
But their strong nerves at last must yield, 
They tame but one another still. 
Early or late 
They stoop to fate, 
And must give up their murmuring breath, 
When they, pale captives, creep to death. 

The garlands wither on your brow, 

Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; 

Upon death's purple altar now, 
See where the victor-victim bleeds ! 




3° THE BOOK Of SACRED SONG. 

Your heads must come 

To the cold tomb ; 
Only the actions of the just 
Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. 

Shirley. 

"he can carry nothing with him when 

HE DIETH/' 

] AGES of Sin is death : the day is come 
Wherein the equal hand of Death must 
sum 

The several items of man's fading glory 
Into the easy total of one story. 
The brows that sweat for kingdoms and renown, 
To glorify their temples with a crown, 
At length grow cold, and leave their honoured 

name 
To flourish in the uncertain blast of fame : 
This is the height that glorious mortals can 
Attain ; this is the highest pitch of man. 
The mighty conqueror of the earth's great ball, 
Whose unconfined limits were too small 
For his extreme ambition to deserve, — 
Six feet of length and three of breadth must serve . 
This is the highest pitch that man can fly ; 
While, after all his triumph, he must die. 



ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 3 1 

Lives he in wealth ? Doth well- deserved store 

Limit his wish, that he can wish no more ? 

And does the fairest bounty of increase 

Crown him with plenty, and his days with peace ? 

It is a right-hand blessing : but supply 

Of wealth cannot secure him ; he must die. 

Lives he in pleasure? Does perpetual mirth 
Lend him a little heaven upon this earth ? 
Meets he no sudden care, no sudden loss 
To cool his joys? Breathes he without a cross? 
Wants he no pleasure that his wanton eye 
Can crave or hope from fortune ? He must die. 

Lives he in honour ? hath his fair desert 
Obtained the freedom of his prince's heart ? 
Or may his more familiar hands disburse 
His liberal favours from the royal purse? 
Alas ! his honour cannot soar too high 
For pale-faced Death to follow; he must die. 

Lives he a conqueror ? and doth Heaven bless 
His heart with spirit, that spirit with success ; 
Success with glory ; glory with a name 
To live with the eternity of fame ? 
The progress of his lasting fame may vie 
With time : but yet the conqueror must die. 



4 
32 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Great and good God ! thou Lord of life and 

death. 
In whom the creature hath its being, breath ; 
Teach me to under-prize this life, and I 
Shall find my loss the easier when I die. 
So raise my feeble thoughts and dull desire, 
That, when these vain and weary days expire, 
I may discard my flesh with joy, and quit 
My better part of this false earth, and it 
Of some more sin ; and for this transitory 
And tedious life enjoy a life of glory. 

F. Quarles. 



a WHO HAVE FLED TO TAKE REFUGE/" 

H ! whither shall I fly ? what path untrod 
Shall I seek out to 'scape the flaming rod 
! Of my offended, of my angry God ? 

Where shall I sojourn ? what kind sea will hide 
My head from thunder ? where shall I abide, 
Until His flames be quench' d or laid aside ? 

What if my feet should take their hasty flight, 
And seek protection in the shades of night ? 
Alas ! no shade can blind the God of light. 




ELIZABETHAN: STUART. $$ 

What if my soul should take the wings of day 
And find some desert ? if she springs away, 
The wings of vengeance wave as fast as they. 

What if some solid rock should entertain 
My frighted soul ? can solid rocks restrain 
The stroke of justice, and not cleave in twain ? 

Nor sea, nor shade, nor shield, nor rock, nor cave, 

Nor silent deserts, nor the silent grave, 

Where flame- eyed fury means to smite, can save. 

? Tis vain to flee; till gentle mercy show 

Her better eye, the further off we go, 

The swing of justice deals the mightier blow. 

The ingenuous child, corrected, doth not fly 
His angry mother's hand, but clings more nigh, 
And quenches with his tears her flaming eye. 

Great God ! there is no safety here below ; 
Thou art my fortress, Thou that seem'st my foe, 
; Tis Thou, that strikest the stroke, must guard the 
blow. F. Quarles. 

" LOOKING UNTO JESUS." 

J|N all extremes, Lord, Thou art still 

The mount whereto my hopes do flee ; 

O make my soul detest all ill, 

Because so much abhorrM by Thee ; 
3 




34 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG 

Lord, let Thy gracious trials show 
That I am just, or make me so. 

Shall mountain, desert, beast, and tree, 

Yield to that heavenly voice of Thine ; 
And shall that voice not startle me, 

Nor stir this stone — this heart — of mine ? 
Yet, Lord, till Thou new bore mine ear 
Thy voice is lost, — I cannot hear. 

Fountain of light and living breath, 

Whose mercies never fail nor fade, 
Fill me with life that hath no death; 
Fill me with light that hath no shade ; 
Appoint the remnant of my days 
To see Thy power, and sing Thy praise. 

O Thou that sitt'st in heaven, and see'st 

My deeds without, my thoughts within, 
Be Thou my Prince, be Thou my Priest ; 
Command my soul, and cure my sin. 
How bitter my afflictions be 
I care not, so I rise to Thee. 

What I possess, or what I crave, 

Brings no content, great God, to me, 

If what I would, or what I have, 
Be not possessed, and blest, in Thee. 



ELIZABETHAN : STUART. $$ 

What I enjoy, make it mine, 
In making me, that have it^ Thine. 

When winter fortunes cloud the brows 

Of summer friends ; when eyes grow strange ; 
When plighted faith forgets its vows ; 

When earth and all things in it change, — 
O Lord, Thy mercies fail me never, 
When once Thou lov'st, Thou lov'st for ever. 

J. Quarles. 



I AM NOW READY TO BE OFFERED, AND THE 
TIME OF MY DEPARTURE IS AT HAND." 

>]HE seas are quiet when the winds are o'er ; 
So calm are we, when passions are no 
more ! 

For then we know how vain it was to boast 
Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. 

Clouds of affection from our younger eyes 
Conceal that emptiness which age descries : 
The souPs dark cottage, batter' d and decay' d, 
Lets in new light, thro' chinks that time has made. 

Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become, 

As they draw near to their eternal home ; 
3 * 





3<5 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, 
That stand upon the threshold of the new. 

Waller. 



ON THE DEATH OF CATHERINE THOMSON. 

Wrp HEN Faith and Love, which parted from 
thee never, 
Had ripenM thy just soul to dwell with 
God, 
Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load 
Of death, calPd life; which us from life doth 

sever. 
Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour, 
Staid not behind, nor in the grave were trod ; 
But, as Faith pointed with her golden rod, 
Followed thee up to joy and bliss for ever ! 
Love led them on, and Faith, who knew them best, 
Thy handmaids, clad them o'er with purple 
beams 
And azure wings, that up they flew so drest, 

And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes 
Before the Judge; who thenceforth bade thee rest, 
And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams. 

Milton. 




ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 37 

ON THE AUTHOR'S BLINDNESS. 

iHEN I consider how my light is spent 
Ere half my days, in this dark world 
and wide ; 

And that one talent, which is death to hide, 
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more 

bent 
To serve therewith my Maker, and present 

My true account, lest He, returning, chide ; — 
" Doth God exact day-labour, light denied ? " 
I fondly ask : But Patience, to prevent 
That murmur, soon replies, — " God doth not need 
Either man's work, or his own gifts ; who best 
Bear his mild yoke, they serve Him best ; his 
state 
Is kingly ; thousands at his bidding speed, 
And post o'er land and ocean without rest ; 
They also serve, who 'only stand and wait." 

Milton. 



SACRED MUSIC. 

JLEST pair of Syrens, pledges of heaven's 



Ml Joy ' 

Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice 



and Verse, 



3^ THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Wed your divinest sounds, and mixed power 

employ 
Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce ; 
And to our high- raised phantasy present 
That undisturbed song of pure concent, 
Aye sung before the sapphire-colourM throne, 
To Him that sits thereon, 
With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee : 
Where the bright seraphim, in burning row, 
Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow ; 
And the cherubic host, in thousand quires, 
Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, 
With those just spirits that wear victorious palms, 
Hymns devout and holy psalms 
Singing everlastingly ; 
That we on earth, with undiscording voice 
May rightly answer that melodious noise ; 
As once we did, till disproportion^ sin 
JarrM against nature' s chime, and with harsh din 
Broke the fair music that all creatures made 
To their great Lord, whose love their motion 

swayM 
In perfect diapason, whilst they stood 
In first obedience, and their state of good. 
Oh, may we soon again renew that song, 
And keep in tune w r ith heaven, till God ere long 



ELIZABETHAN : STUART. 39 

To his celestial concert us unite, 

To live with him, and sing in endless mora of 

light. 

Milton. 



HAVING A DESIRE TO DEPART, AND TO BE WITH 
CHRIST.^ 

^10 RD, it belongs not to my care 
Whether I die or live ; 
To live and serve Thee is my share, 
And this Thy grace must give. 
If life be long, I will be glad, 

That I may long obey; 
If short, yet why should I be sad, 
That shall have the same pay ? 

Christ leads me through no darker rooms 

Than He went through before ; 
He that unto God's kingdom comes 

Must enter by this door. 
Come, Lord ! when grace has made me meet 

Thy blessed face to see • 
For if Thy work on earth be sweet, 

What must Thy glory be ? 




4° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Then shall I end my sad complaints, 

And weary, sinful days, 
And join with the triumphant saints, 

That sing Jehovah's praise. 
My knowledge of that life is small, 

The eye of faith is dim ; 
But 'tis enough that Christ knows all, 

And I shall be with Him. 

Baxter. 




RISING UP A GREAT WHILE BEFORE DAY, 

HE PRAYED." 



]HEN first thy eyes unveil, give thy soul 
leave 
To do the like ; our bodies but forerun 
The spirit's duty ; true hearts spread and heave 
Unto their God as flowers do to the sun ; 
Give Him thy first thoughts then, so shalt thou 

keep 
Him company all day, and in Him sleep. 

Yet never sleep the sun up ; prayer should 
Dawn with the day ; there are set, awful hours 



ELIZABETHAN I STUART. 4 1 

'Twixt heaven and us ; the manna was not good 
After sun-rising ; far day sullies flowers : 
Rise to prevent the sun ; sleep doth sins glut, 
And heaven' s gate opens when the world's is shut. 

Walk with thy fellow-creatures : note the hush 
And whisperings amongst them. Not a spring 
Or leaf but hath his morning hymn ; each bush 
And oak doth know I AM. — Canst thou not 

sing? 
O leave thy cares and follies ! go this way, 
And thou art sure to prosper all the day. 

Serve God before the world : let Him not go 
Until thou hast a blessing ; then resign 
The whole unto Him, and remember who 
Prevail'd by wrestling ere the sun did shine : 
Pour oil upon the stones, weep for thy sin, 
Then journey on, and have an eye to heaven. 

Mornings are mysteries : the first, World's youth, 

Man's resurrection, and the future's bud. 

Shroud in their births ; the crown of life, light, 

truth, 
Is styled their star; the stone and hidden food : 
Three blessings wait upon them, one of which 
Should move — they make us holy, happy, rich. 



42 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

When the world's up, and every swarm abroad, 
Keep well thy temper, mix not with each clay : 
Despatch necessities ; life hath a load 
Which must be carried on, and safely may : 
Yet keep these cares without thee ; let the heart 
Be God's alone 5 and choose the better part. 

Vaughan. 



PEACE. 

Y soul, there is a country 

Afar beyond the stars, 
Where stands a winged sentry 
All skilful in the wars. 

There, above noise and danger, 

Sweet peace sits crownM with smiles, 

And One born in a manger 

Commands the beauteous files. 

He is thy gracious friend, 

And, O my soul, awake ! 
Did in pure love descend, 

To die here for thv sake. 




ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 43 

If thou canst get but thither, 
There grows the flower of peace, 

The rose that cannot wither, 
Thy fortress, and thy ease. 

Leave then thy foolish ranges ; 

For none can thee secure, 
But One who never changes, 

Thy God, thy Life, thy Cure ! 

Vaughan. 



THE PURITANS IN AMERICA. 

\ HERE the remote Bermudas ride 
In ocean's bosom unespied, 
From a small boat that row'd along 
The listening winds received this song : — 

" What should we do but sing His praise, 

That led us through the watery maze 

Unto an isle so long unknown, 

And yet far kinder than our own. 

He lands us on a grassy stage, 

Safe from the storm and prelates' rage ; 

He gave us this eternal spring, 

Which here enamels every thing; 




44 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

And sends the fowls to us, in care, 
On daily visits through the air. 
He hangs in shades the orange bright, 
Like golden lamps in a green night, 
And does in the pomegranate close 
Jewels more rich than Ormuz shows. 
He makes the figs our mouths to meet, 
And throws the melons at our feet ; 
With cedars, chosen by His hand 
From Lebanon, He stores the land. 
He cast, of which we rather boast, 
The gospel-pearl upon our coast, 
And in these rocks for us did frame 
A temple, where to sound His name. 
O let our voice His praise exalt, 
Till it arrive in heaven' s vault, 
Which thence, perhaps, rebounding, may 
Echo beyond the Mexique bay." 

Thus sang they in the English boat 
An holy and a cheerful note • 
And all the way, to guide their chime, 
With falling oars they kept the time. 

MarvelL 




ELIZABETHAN : STUART. 45 



DIES IR^E. 

^|HE last loud trumpets wondrous 
sound 
Shall through the rending tombs re- 
bound, 
And wake the nations under ground. 

Nature and Death shall, with surprise, 

Behold the pale offender rise, 

And view the Judge with conscious eyes. 

Then shall, with universal dread, 
The sacred mystic book be read, 
To try the living and the dead. 

The Judge ascends His awful throne, 
He makes each secret sin be known, 
And all with shame confess their own. 

O then, what interest shall I make, 

To save my last important stake 

When the most just have cause to quake ? 

Thou mighty, formidable King, 
Thou mercy's unexhausted spring, 
Some comfortable pity bring ! 



4^ THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Forget not what my ransom cost, 
Nor let my dear-bought soul be lost, 
In storms of guilty terror tost. 

Thou who for me didst feel such pain, 
Whose precious blood the cross did stain, 
Let not those agonies be vain ! 

Thou, who wert moved by Mary's grief, 
And by absolving of the thief 
Hast given me hope, now give relief. 

Reject not my unworthy prayer, 
Preserve me from that dangerous snare 
Which death and gaping hell prepare. 

Give my exalted soul a place 
Among Thy chosen right-hand race ; 
The sons of God, and heirs of grace. 

Prostrate my contrite heart I rend : 
My God, my Father, and my Friend, 
Do not forsake me in my end. 

Roscommon (from the Latin). 



SECOND PART. 

WILLIAM AND MARY, ANNE, 
GEORGE I. AND II. 



SECOND PART. 



VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS. 




CREATOR Spirit, by whose aid 
The world's foundations first were laid, 
Come, visit every humble mind • 
Come, pour Thy joys on human kind; 
From sin and sorrow set us free, 
And make Thy temples worthy Thee. 

O source of uncreated light, 
The Father's promised Paraclete ! 
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire, 
Our hearts with heavenly love inspire ; 
Come, and Thy sacred unction bring, 
To sanctify us, while we sing. 

Plenteous of grace, descend from high, 

Rich in Thy sevenfold energy ! 

Thou strength of His Almighty hand, 

Whose power doth heaven and earth command ; 

4 



5° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Proceeding Spirit, our defence, 

Who doth the gift of tongues dispense, 

And crown' st Thy gift with eloquence. 

Refine and purge our earthly parts ; 
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts ! 
Our frailties help, our wills control, 
Submit the senses to the soul ; 
And when rebellious they are grown, 
Then lay Thy hand, and hold them down. 

Chase from our minds the infernal foe, 
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow ; 
And lest our feet should step astray, 
Protect and guide us in the way. 

Make us eternal truths receive, 
And practise all that we believe ; 
Give us Thyself, that we may see 
The Father, and the Son, by Thee. 

Immortal honour, endless fame, 
Attend the Almighty Father's name; 
The Saviour Son be glorified, 
Who for lost man's redemption died; 
And equal adoration be, 
Eternal Paraclete, to Thee. 

Dry den. 




WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 5 1 



WANDERINGS OF THE HEART. 

"Y God, to keep my heart. 
That it from Thee may never start, 
I know is Thy dread will : 
But how shall I that task fulfil ? 
The traitor with my rebel lusts will mix, 
And 'tis beyond my power, the mercury to fix. 

My heart inclines to bliss ; 
Yet studies the straight way to miss : 

My thoughts are loose and vain, 
When I most strive them to restrain, 
They fly at random all the world about, 
And render my best prayers careless and indevout. 

Opinions false one while 
My fond credulity beguile ; 

In a mistaken way^ 
With pertinaciousness I stray; 
I no destructive consequences heed, 
Am harder to reclaim the farther I proceed. 

Sin the internal cells 
Invades, where my remembrance dwells ; 
4 * 



53 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

PaLst foul ideas there 
In lively colours pictured are ; 
When to recall truths heavenly I designed, 
Things sensual overspread the surface of my mind. 

My God, Thou only art 
Able to know, keep, rule, the heart; 

Oh, make my heart Thy care, 
Which I myself to keep despair ! 
No rebels then will garrison my breast, 
Beneath Almighty wings my heart will live at rest. 

Ken. 

FROM PSALM CIV. 

lLESSGod,my soul! — Thou, Lord, alone 
Possessest empire without bounds ; 
With honour Thou art crowned, Thy 
throne 
Eternal majesty surrounds. 

With light Thou dost Thyself enrobe, 

And glory for a garment take ; 
Heaven* s curtains stretch beyond the globe, 

Thy canopy of state to make. 

God builds on liquid air, and forms 
His palace- chambers in the skies; 

The clouds His chariot are, and storms 

The swift-wing* d steeds with which He flies. 




WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 53 

As bright as flame, as swift as wind, 

His ministers heaven's palace fill ; 
All have their sundry tasks assigned ; 

All proud to serve their Sovereign's will. 

The various troops of sea and land 

In sense of common want agree ; 
All wait on Thy dispensing hand, 

And have their daily alms from Thee. 

They gather what Thy stores disperse, 

Without their trouble to provide : 
Thou opest Thine hand, the Universe, 

The craving world, is all supplied. 

Thou for a moment hidest Thy face, — 
The numerous ranks of creatures mourn ; 

Thou takest their breath, all nature's race 
Forthwith to mother earth return. 

Again Thou send'st Thy Spirit forth 
To inspire the mass with vital seed ; 

Nature 's restored, and parent earth 
Smiles on her new-created breed. 

Thus through successive ages stands, 

Firm fiVd, Thy providential care; 

Pleased with the work of Thy own hands, 

Thou dost the wastes of time repair. 

Tate. 



54 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 




PSALM XXIII. 

1HE Lord my pasture shall prepare, 
And feed me with a Shepherd's care; 
His presence shall my wants supply, 
And guard me with a watchful eye ; 
My noon-day walks He shall attend, 
And all my midnight hours defend. 

When in the sultry glebe I faint, 
Or on the thirsty mountain pant, 
To fertile vales and dewy meads 
My weary, wandering steps He leads, 
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow, 
Amid the verdant landscape flow. 

Though in the paths of death I tread, 
With gloomy horrors overspread, 
My stedfast heart shall fear no ill, 
For Thou, O Lord, art with me still ; 
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid, 
And guide me through the dreadful shade. 

Though in a bare and rugged way, 
Through devious, lonely wilds I stray, 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 55 

Thy bounty shall my pains beguile ; 
The barren wilderness shall smile, 
With sudden greens and herbage crown' d^ 
And streams shall murmur all around. 

dddison. 



WHO GIVETH SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 



NTERVAL of grateful shade, 
Welcome to my weary head ! 
My Great Master still allows 
Needful periods of repose. 

By my Heavenly Father blest, 
Thus I give myself to rest. 
Heavenly Father ! gracious name 1 
Night and day His love the same ! 

Far be each suspicious thought, 
Every anxious care forgot : 
Thou, my ever-bounteous God, 
Crown'st my days with various good. 

Thy kind eye, which cannot sleep, 
These defenceless hours shall keep : 
Blest vicissitude to me ! 
Day and night Pm still with Thee. 



56 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

What though downy slumbers flee, 
Strangers to my couch and me ? 
Sleepless, well I know to rest, 
Lodged within my Father's breast. 

While the empress of the night 
Scatters mild her silver light, 
While the vivid planets stray 
Various through their mystic way, — 

While the stars unnumbered roll 
Round the ever-constant pole, 
Far above the spangled skies 
All my soul to God shall rise ; — ■ 

*M idst the silence of the night, 
Mingling with those angels bright, 
Whose harmonious voices raise 
Ceaseless love and ceaseless praise ; — 

Through the throng His gentle ear 
Shall my tuneless accents hear : 
From on high doth He impart 
Secret comfort to my heart. 

He, in these serenest hours, 
Guides my intellectual powers, 
And His Spirit doth diffuse 
Sweeter far than midnight dews, — 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. j7 

Lifting all my thoughts above. 
On the wings of faith and love : 
Blest alternative to me, 
Thus to sleep, or wake, with Thee ! 

What if death my sleep invade, 
Should I be of death afraid ? 
While encircled by Thine arm, 
Death may strike, but cannot harm. 

What if beams of opening day 
Shine around my breathless clay, 
Brighter visions from on high 
Shall regale my mental eye. 

See ! a flood of sacred light, 
Which no more shall yield to night ! 
Transitory world, farewell ! 
Jesus calls with Him to dwell. 

With Thy heavenly presence blest, 
Death is life, and labour rest : 
Welcome sleep or death to me ! 
Still secure, for still with Thee. 

Doddridge. 




58 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



" I AM THE WAY/ 7 

]ESUS, my all, to heaven is gone, 
He that I placed my hopes upon ; 
His track I see, and Pll pursue 
The narrow way till Him I view. 

The way the holy prophets went, 
The way that leads from banishment, 
The King's highway of holiness, 
Pll go, — for all its paths are peace. 

No stranger may proceed therein, 
No lover of the world and sin ; 
No lion, no devouring care, 
No sin nor sorrow shall be there. 

No, nothing may go up thereon 
But travelling souls, and I am one; 
Wayfaring men, to Canaan bound, 
Shall only in the way be found. 

This is the way I long have sought, 
And mournM because I found it not; 
My grief and burden long have been 
Because I could not cease from sin. 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 59 

The more I strove against its power, 
I sinnM and stumbled but the more ; 
Till late I heard my Saviour say, 
" Come hither, soul, I am the Way." 

Lo, glad I come, and Thou, blest Lamb, 
Shalt take me to Thee as I am : 
Nothing but sin I Thee can give ; 
Nothing but love shall I receive. 

Then will I tell to sinners round 
What a dear Saviour I have found ; 
PR point to Thy redeeming blood, 
And say, " Behold the way to God." 

Cennick. 



THE DESPONDING SOUL'S WISH. 

Y spirit longeth for Thee, 
Within my troubled breast ; 
Although I be unworthy 
Of so divine a guest. 

Of so divine a guest 

Unworthy though I be, 
Yet has my heart no rest, 

Unless it comes from Thee. 




6o THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Unless it comes from Thee, 
In vain I look around ; 

In all that I can see, 
No rest is to be found. 

No rest is to be found 
But in Thy blessed love ; 

Oh ! let my wish be crown'd, 
And send it from above. 



ANSWER. 

CHEER up, desponding soul ; 

Thy longing, pleased I see; 
'Tis part of that great whole 

Wherewith I long'd for thee. 

Wherewith I longM for thee, 
And left my Father's throne, 

From death to set thee free, 
To claim thee for my own. 

To claim thee for my own, 
I suffered on the cross ; 

Oh ! were my love but known 
No soul could fear its loss. 




WILLIAM AND MARY— GEORGE II. 6 1 

No soul could fear its loss. 

But, filPd with love divine, 
Would die on its own cross, 

And rise for ever mine. 

John Eyrom. 



CONFIDENCE IN GOD. 

TY God, my Father, blissful name 
O may I call Thee mine ? 
May I with sweet assurance claim 
A portion so divine? 

This only can my fears control, 

And bid my sorrows fly; 
What harm can ever reach my soul 

Beneath my Father's eye ? 

Whatever Thy providence denies 

I calmly would resign ; 
For Thou art just, and good, and wise; 

O bend my will to Thine. 

Whatever Thy sacred will ordains, 

O give me strength to bear ; 
And let me know, my Father reigns, 

And trust His tender care. 



62 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

If pain and sickness rend this frame, 

And life almost depart, 
Is not Thy mercy still the same 

To cheer my drooping heart ? 

If cares and sorrows me surround, 
Their power why should I fear ? 

My inward peace they cannot wound, 
If Thou, my God, art near. 

Anne Steele. 



GETHSEMANE. 

[JESUS, while He dwelt below, 
As divine historians say, 
To a place would often go ; 
Near to Kedron's brook it lay ; 
In this place He loved to be ; 
And 'twas named Gethsemane. 

'Twas a garden, as we read, 

At the foot of Olivet, 
Low, and proper to be made 

The Redeemer's lone retreat : 
When from noise He would be free, 
Then He sought Gethsemane. 




WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 63 

Thither, by their Master brought, 

His disciples likewise came ; 
There the heavenly truths He taught 

Often set their hearts on flame ; 
Therefore they, as well as He, 
Visited Gethsemane. 

Oft conversing here they sat « 

Or might join with Christ in prayer; 

Oh ! what blest devotion 's that, 
When the Lord himself is there ! 

All things to them seemM to agree 

To endear Gethsemane. 

Full of love to man's lost race, 

On the conflict much He thought ; 

This He knew the destined place, 
And He loved the sacred spot \ 

Therefore Jesus chose to be 

Often in Gethsemane. 

Came at length the dreadful night ; 

Vengeance, with its iron rod, 
Stood, and with collected might, 

Bruised the harmless Lamb of God ; 
See, my soul, thy Saviour see, 
Prostrate in Gethsemane ! 



64 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

View Him in that olive-press, 

Wrung with anguish, whelm* d in blood ! 
Hear Him pray in His distress, 

With strong cries and tears, to God : 
Then reflect, what sin must be, 
Gazing on Gethsemane. 

Gloomy garden, on thy beds, 
WashM by Kedron's water-pool, 

Grow most rank and bitter weeds, 
Think on these, my soul, my soul ! 

Wouldst thou sin's dominion see ? 

Call to mind Gethsemane. 

Eden, from each flowery bed, 

Did for man short sweetness breathe; 

Soon, by Satan's counsel led, 

Man wrought sin, and sin wrought death ; 

But, of life, the healing tree 

Grows in rich Gethsemane. 

Hither, Lord, Thou didst resort 
Oft-times with Thy little train ; 

Here wouldst keep Thy private court, 
Oh ! confer that grace again : 

Lord, resort with worthless me 

Oft-times to Gethsemane. 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 65 

True, I can't deserve to share 

In a favour so divine ; 
But since sin first fiVd Thee there, 

None have greater sins than mine ; 
And to this my woeful plea, 
Witness thou, Gethsemane ! 

Sins against a holy God ; 

Sins against his righteous laws ; 
Sins against his love, his blood, 

Sins against his name and cause, 
Sins immense as is the sea : 
— Hide me,, O Gethsemane ! 

Saviour, all the stone remove 

From my flinty, frozen heart ; 
Thaw it with the beams of love, 

Pierce it with thy mercy's dart ; 
Wound the heart that wounded Thee; 
Break it in Gethsemane ! 

Hart. 



66 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 




THIS IS MY NAME FOR EVER, 

J|HE God of Abraham praise, 
Who reigns enthroned above; 
&\ Ancient of everlasting days, 
And God of love : 
Jehovah, Great I AM ! 
By earth and heaven confest ; 
I bow, and bless the sacred Name 
For ever blest. 

The God of Abraham praise, 
At whose supreme command 
From earth I rise, and seek the joys 

At His right hand : 
I all on earth forsake, 
Its wisdom, fame, and power, 
And Him my only portion make, 

My shield and tower. 

The God of Abraham praise, 
Whose all-sufficient grace 
Shall guide me all my happy days 
In all my ways : 



WILLIAM AXD MARY GEORGE II. 67 

He calls a worm His friend ! 
He calls Himself my God ! 
And He shall save me to the end, 
Through Jesus 3 blood. 

He by Himself hath sworn, 

I on His oath depend ; 

I shall, on eagles' wings up-borne, 

To heaven ascend : 
I shall behold His face, 
I shall His power adore, 
And sing the wonders of His grace 

For evermore. 

Though nature' s strength decay, 

And earth and hell withstand, 

To Canaan's bounds I urge my way 

At His command : 
The watery deep I pass, 
With Jesus in my view ; 
And through the howling wilderness 

My way pursue. 

The goodly land I see, 
With peace and plenty blest, 
A land of sacred liberty 
And endless rest : 
5 * 



63 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

There milk and honey flow. 
And oil and wine abound, 
And trees of life for ever grow, 
With mercy crownM. 

There dwells the Lord our King, 
The Lord our Righteousness ; 
Triumphant o'er the world and sin, 

The Prince of Peace : 
On Sion's sacred height 
His kingdom still maintains ; 
And glorious, with His saints in light, 

For ever reigns. 

He keeps His own secure ; 
He guards them by His side, 
Arrays in garments white and pure 

His spotless Bride ; 
With streams of sacred bliss, 
With groves of living joys, 
With all the fruits of Paradise, 

He still supplies. 

Before the great Three-One 
They all exulting stand, 
And tell the wonders He hath done 
Through all their land : 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 69 

The listening spheres attend 
And swell the growing fame. 
And sing, in songs which never end, 
The wondrous Name. 

The God who reigns on high, 
The great archangels sing, 
And, « Holy, Holy, Holy," cry, 

t€ Almighty King ! 
Who was, and is the same, 
And evermore shall be ! 
Jehovah — Father— Great I AM ! 

We worship Thee." 

Before the Saviour's face 
The ransomM nations bow ; 
O'erwhelmM at His Almighty grace, 

For ever new. 
He shows His prints of love ; 
They kindle to a flame, 
And sound, through all the worlds above, 

The slaughtered Lamb. 

The whole triumphant host 
Give thanks to God on high ; 
" Hail, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost \» 
They ever cry : 



7° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Hail, Abraham's God, and mine, 
I join the heavenly lays ; 
All might and majesty be Thine, 
And endless praise ! 

Olivers. 



THEY DESIRE A BETTER COUNTRY, EVEN A 
HEAVENLY." 

1ISE, my soul, and stretch thy wings. 
Thy better portion trace ; 
Rise from transitory things 
Toward Heaven, thy native place. 
Sun, and moon, and stars decay ; 

Time shall soon this earth remove; 
Rise, my soul, and haste away 
To seats prepared above. 

Rivers to the ocean run, 

Nor stay in all their course; 
Fire ascending seeks the sun, — 

Both speed them to their source : 
So a soul that 's born of God, 

Pants to view His glorious face ; 
Upwards tends to His abode, 

To rest in His embrace. 




WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 7 1 

Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn, 

Press onward to the prize ; 
Soon the Saviour will return 

Triumphant in the skies. 
Yet a season, and ye know 

Happy entrance will be given; 
All our sorrow left below, 

And earth exchanged for heaven. 

Seagrave. 



£'< 



HOU hidden Love of God, whose height, 
Whose depth unfathomM, no man 
knows, 



I see from far Thy beauteous light, 

Inly I sigh for Thy repose : 
My heart is painM, nor can it be 
At rest, till it finds rest in Thee. 

Thy secret voice invites me still 

The sweetness of Thy yoke to prove ; 

And fain I would : but though my will 
Seem fixM, yet wide my passions rove ; 

Yet hindrances strew all the way ; 

I aim at Thee, yet from Thee stray. 



72 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

•Tis mercy all, that Thou hast brought 
My mind to seek her peace in Thee ! 

Yet while I seek, but find Thee not, 
No peace my wandering soul shall see. 

O when shall all my wanderings end, 

And all my steps to Thee-ward tend ? 

Is there a thing beneath the sun 

That strives with Thee my heart to share ? 
Ah ! tear it thence, and reign alone, 

The Lord of every motion there : 
Then shall my heart from earth be free, 
When it has found repose in Thee. 

O hide this Self from me, that I 

No more, but Christ in me may live ! 

My vile affections crucify, 

Nor let one darling lust survive. 

In all things nothing may I see, 

Nothing desire or seek but Thee. 

O Love, Thy sovereign aid impart, 
To save me from low-thoughted care : 

Chase this self-will through all my heart, 
Through all its latent mazes there : 

Make me Thy duteous child, that I 

Ceaseless may " Abba, Father \" cry. 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 73 

Ah no ! ne'er will I backward turn : 

Thine wholly, Thine alone I am ! 
Thrice happy he, who views with scorn 

Earth's toys, for Thee his constant flame. 
O help, that I may never move 
From the blest footsteps of Thy love ! 

Each moment draw from earth away 
My heart, that lowly waits Thy call ; 

Speak to my inmost soul, and say, 
I am thy Love, thy God, thy All ! 

To feel Thy power, to hear Thy voice, 

To taste Thy love, be all my choice. 

J. Wesley {from Tersteege .<). 



^MADE NIGH, BY THE BLOOD OF CHRIST.' 



THIRST, Thou wounded Lamb of God, 
To wash me in Thy cleansing blood, 
To dwell within Thy wounds ; then pain 
Is sweet, and life or death is gain. 

Take my poor heart, and let it be 
For ever closed to all but Thee ! 
Seal Thou my breast, and let me wear 
That pledge of love for ever there. 




74 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

How blest are they, who still abide 
Close sheltered in Thy bleeding side ! 
Who life and strength from Thee derive. 
And by Thee move, and in Thee live ! 

What are our works but sin and death, 
Till Thou Thy quickening Spirit breathe ! 
Thou giv^st the power Thy grace to move — 
O wondrous grace ! O boundless love ! 

How can it be, Thou heavenly King, 
That Thou shouldst us to glory bring ? 
Make slaves the partners of Thy throne, 
Decked with a never-fading crown ? 

Hence our hearts melt, our eyes overflow, 
Our words are lost ; nor will we know, 
Nor will we think of aught beside 
" My Lord, my Love is crucified ! " 

Ah, Lord ! enlarge our scanty thought, 
To know the wonders Thou hast wrought ! 
Unloose our stammering tongue, to tell 
Thy love, immense, unsearchable ! 

First-born of many brethren Thou 
To Thee, lo ! all our souls we bow, 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 75 

To Thee our hearts and hands we give : 
Thine may we die, Thine may we live. 

J. Wesley {from the German). 



HE HATH COVERED ME WITH THE ROBE OF 
RIGHTEOUSNESS." 



ESU, Thy blood and righteousness, 
My beauty are, my glorious dress ; 
'Midst flaming worlds, in these array'd, 



With joy shall I lift up my head. 

Bold shall I stand in that great day ; 
For who aught to my charge shall lay ? 
Fully through these absolved I am 
From sin and fear, from guilt and shame. 

Lord, I believe Thy precious blood, 
Which at the mercy- seat of God 
For ever doth for sinners plead, 
For me, ev'n for my soul, was shed. 

When from the dust of death I rise, 
To claim my mansion in the skies, 
Ev'n then this shall be all my plea^ 
" Jesus hath lived, hath died for me." 



7^ THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Thus Abraham, the friend of God, 
Thus all heaven's armies, bought with blood, 
Saviour of sinners, Thee proclaim, 
Sinners, of whom the chief I am. 

Naked from Satan did I flee 

To Thee, my Lord, and put on Thee : 

And thus adornM, I wait the word 

" He comes : Arise, and meet thy Lord." 

This spotless robe the same appears, 
When ruin'd nature sinks in years : 
No age can change its constant hue ; 
Thy blood preserves it ever new. 

Jesu, be endless praise to Thee, 
Whose boundless mercy hath for me, 
For me, and all Thine hands have made, 
An everlasting ransom paid. 

Thou God of power, Thou God of love, 
Let the whole world Thy mercy prove : 
Now let Thy word o'er all prevail : 
Now take the spoils of death and hell 

O let the dead now hear Thy voice, 
Now bid Thy banished ones rejoice ! 




WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 77 

Their beauty this, their glorious dress, 
Jesu, Thy blood and righteousness ! 

J. Wesley [from Count Zinzendorf). 



WE LOVE HIM, BECAUSE HE FIRST LOVED US. 

JIHEE will I love, my strength and tower, 
Thee will I love, my joy and crown; 
Thee will I love with all my power, 
In all Thy works, and Thee alone ! 
Thee will I love, till that pure fire 
Fill my whole soul with chaste desire. 

In darkness willingly I strayM ; 

I sought Thee, yet from Thee I roved ; 
For wide my wandering thoughts were spread, 

Thy creatures more than Thee I loved : 
And now, if more at length I see, 
'Tis through Thy light, and comes from Thee. 

I thank Thee, uncreated Sun, 

That Thy bright beams on me have shined ; 
I thank Thee, who hast overthrown 

My foes, and heaPd my wounded mind; 
I thank Thee, whose enlivening voice 
Bids my freed heart in Thee rejoice. 



78 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Give to my eyes refreshing tears, 

Give to my heart chaste, hallowM fires ; 

Give to my soul, with filial fears, 

The love that all heaven' s host inspires ; 

That all my powers, with all their might, 

In Thy sole glory may unite. 

Thee will I love, my Joy, my Crown ! 

Thee will I love, my Lord, my God ! 
Thee will I love, though all may frown, 

And thorns and briars perplex my road ; 
Yea, when my flesh and heart decay, 
Thee shall I love in endless day. 

J. Wesley [from Scheffler). 



TRUST IN THE LORD : WAIT PATIENTLY ON HIM. 

|IVE to the winds thy fears ; 
Hope, and be undismayed; 
God hears thy sighs, and counts thy 
tears, 
God shall lift up thy head 
Through waves, through clouds and storms, 
He gently clears thy way ; 
Wait thou His time ; so shall the night 
Soon end in joyous day. 




WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 79 

He everywhere hath sway. 

And all things serve His might ; 
His every act pure blessing is, 

His path unsullied light : 

When he makes bare His arm, 

What shall His work withstand ? 
When He His people's cause defends, 

Who, who shall stay His hand ? 

Leave to His sovereign sway 

To choose, and to command ; 
With wonder fllPd, thou then shalt own 

How wise, how strong His hand : 

Thou comprehend' st Him not, 

Yet earth and heaven tell, 
God sits as sovereign on the throne, 

He ruleth all things well. 

Thou seest our weakness, Lord, 

Our hearts are known to Thee ; 
O lift Thou up the sinking hand, 

Confirm the feeble knee ! 

Let us, in life and death, 

Boldly Thy truth declare ; 
And publish with our latest breath, 

Thy love, and guardian care. 

J. Wesley {from Gerhardt). 



8o THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



AS WORKERS TOGETHER WITH HIM/ 



IGH on His everlasting throne, 

The King of Saints His work surveys \ 
Marks the dear souls He calls His own, 



And smiles on that peculiar race. 
He rests well pleased their toil to see ; 

Beneath His easy yoke they move ; 
With all their heart and strength agree 

In the sweet labour of His love. 

His eye at once the world looks through, 

A vast uncultivated field ; 
Mountains and vales in ghastly show, 

A barren, uncouth prospect yield : 
Cleared of the thorns by civil care, 

A few less hideous wastes are seen; 
Yet still they all continue bare, 

And not one spot of earth is green. 

See where the servants of their God, 

A busy multitude, appear ! 
For Jesus day and night employed, 

His husbandry they toil to clear. 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. c 

The love of Christ their hearts constrains, 
And strengthens their unwearied hands ; 

They spend their blood, and sweat, and pains, 
To cultivate EmmanuePs lands. 

Alarm' d at their successful toil, 

Satan and his wild spirits rage ; 
They labour to tear up and spoil 

And blast the rising heritage. 
In every wilderness they sow 

The seed of death, the carnal mind ; 
They would not let one virtue grow, 

Nor leave one seed of good behind. 

Yet still the servants of their Lord 

Look up and calmly persevere, 
Supported by the Master's word, 

The adverse powers they scorn to fear ; 
Gladly their happy work pursue : 

The labour of their hands is seen, 
Their hands the face of earth renew ; 

Some spots at least are lively green. 

To dig the ground they thus bestow 
Their lives ; from every softened clod 

They gather out the stones, and sow 
The immortal seed, the word of God. 



82 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

They water it with tears and prayers, 
Then long for the returning word ; 

Happy, if all their pains and cares 

Can bring forth fruit to please their Lord. 

Jesus their work delighted sees ; 

Their industry vouchsafes to crown : 
He kindly gives the wishM increase,, 

And sends the promised blessing down. 
The sap of life, the Spirit's powers, 

He rains incessant from above ; 
He all His gracious fulness showers, 

To perfect their great work of love. 

O multiply Thy sowers' seed, 

And fruit we every hour shall bear ; 
Throughout the world Thy gospel spread, 

Thy everlasting grace declare : 
We all in perfect love renew'd, 

Shall know the greatness of Thy power, 
Stand in the temple of our God 

As pillars, and go out no more. 

J. Wesley {from Bishop A, G. Spangenberg). 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 83 



FOR OF HIM, AND THROUGH HIM, AND TO HIM, 
ARE ALL THINGS." 



OMMIT thou all thy griefs 
And ways into His hands, 
To His sure truth and tender care, 



Who earth and heaven commands : 

Who points the clouds their course, 
Whom winds and seas obey; 
He shall direct thy wandering feet, 
He shall prepare thy way. 

Thou on the Lord rely, 
So safe shalt thou go on ; 
Fix on His work thy steadfast eye, 
So shall thy work be done. 

No profit canst thou gain 
By self- consuming care; 
To Him commit thy cause ; His ear 
Attends the softest prayer. 

Thy everlasting Truth, 
Father ! Thy ceaseless love, 
Sees all Thy children^ wants, and knows 
What best for each shall prove. 



84 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

And whatsoever Thou wilPst 
Thou dost, O King of kings ; 
What Thy unerring wisdom chose, 
Thy power to being brings. 

Thou everywhere hast sway, 
And all things serve Thy might ; 
Thy every act pure blessing is, 
Thy path unsullied light. 

When Thou arisest, Lord, 
Who shall Thy work withstand ? 
When all Thy children want, Thou giv'st, 
Who, who shall stay Thine hand ? 

Give to the winds thy fears ; 
Hope, and be undismayed ; 
God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears ; 
God shall lift up thy head. 

Through waves and clouds and storms 
He gently clears thy w r ay ; 
Wait thou His time; so shall this night 
Soon end in joyous day. 

Still heavy is thy heart ? 
Still sinks thy spirit down ? 
Cast off the weight, let fear depart, 
And every care be gone. 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 85 

What though thou rulest not, 
Yet heaven and earth and hell 
Proclaim, God sitteth on the throne, 
And ruleth all things well ! 

Leave to His sovereign sway 
To choose and to command ; 
So shalt thou wondering own, His way 
How wise, how strong His hand ! 

Far, far above thy thought 
His counsel shall appear, 
When fully He the work hath wrought 
That caused thy needless fear. 

Thou seest our weakness, Lord, 
Our hearts are known to Thee ; 
Oh ! lift Thou up the sinking hand, 
Confirm the feeble knee ! 

Let us, in life, in death, 
Thy steadfast truth declare, 
And publish, with our latest breath, 
Thy love and guardian care ! 

J. IVesley {from Paul Gerkardt). 



86 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



r* 



"IF THAT BY ANY MEANS I MIGHT ATTAIN TO 
THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD." 

nHOU God of glorious majesty, 
To Thee, against myself, to Thee, 
A worm of earth, I cry ; 
A half-awaken' d child of man, 
An heir of endless bliss or pain, 
A sinner born to die ! 

Lo ! on a narrow neck of land 
'Twixt two unbounded seas I stand, 

Secure, insensible : 
A point of time, a moment's space, 
Removes me to that heavenly place, 

Or shuts me up in hell. 

O God, mine inmost soul convert ! 
And deeply on my thoughtful heart 

Eternal things impress : 
Give me to feel their solemn weight, 
And tremble on the brink of fate, 

And wake to righteousness. 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. &7 

Before me place, in dread array, 
The pomp of that tremendous day, 

When Thou with clouds shalt come, 
To j udge the nations at Thy bar ; 
And tell me, Lord, shall I be there, 

To meet a joyful doom ? 

Be this my one great business here, 
With serious industry and fear 

Eternal bliss to insure : 
Thine utmost counsel to fulfil, 
And suffer all Thy righteous will, 

And to the end endure. 

Then, Saviour, then my soul receive, 
Transported from this vale to live 

And reign with Thee above ! 
Where faith is sweetly lost in sight, 
And hope in full supreme delight, 

And everlasting love. 

C. Wesley. 



88 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 




I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY. 

)]0, I would not always live; 

Always sin, repent, and grieve ; 

Always in my dungeon groan ; 
Always serve a God unknown ; 
Or if Thou appear^st to me, 
Darkly through a glass I see, 
Know in part, and deeply mourn, 
Till I to Thy arms return. 

PardonM, still for sin I grieve, 
Never can myself forgive ; 
Weeping, though my heart were pure, 
Would I to the end endure ; 
Still lament, and daily die, 
Till my Saviour from the sky- 
Wipe the gracious tears away, 
Bear me to eternal da v. 

C. Wesley. 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 89 



i will not let thee go, except thou bless 
me!" 



OME, O Thou Traveller unknown, 
Whom still I hold, but cannot see ! 
My company before is gone, 



And I am left alone with Thee; 
With Thee all night I mean to stay, 
And wrestle till the break of day. ' 

I need not tell Thee who I am ; 

My misery and sin declare ; 
Thyself hast callM me by my name ; 

Look on Thy hands and read it there ; 
But who, I ask Thee, who art Thou ? 
Tell me Thy name, and tell me now. 

In vain Thou strugglest to get free, 
I never wall unloose mv hold : 

Art Thou the Man that died for me ? 
The secret of Thv love unfold : 

Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, 

Till I Thy name, Thy nature know. 



9° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Wilt Thou not yet to me reveal 
Thy new, unutterable name ? 

Tell me, I still beseech Thee, tell ? 
To know it now, resolved I am : 

Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, 

Till I Thy name, Thy nature know. 

What though my sinking flesh complain. 

And murmur to contend so long, 
I rise superior to my pain ; 

When I am weak, then am I strong ! 
And when my all of strength shall fail, 
I shall with the God-man prevail. 

My strength is gone, my nature dies, 
I sink beneath Thy mighty hand : 

Faint, to revive, and fall, to rise ; 
I fall, and yet by faith I stand, — 

I stand, and will not let Thee go, 

Till I Thy name, Thy nature know. 

Yield to me now, — for I am weak ; 

But confident in self-despair : 
Speak to my heart, in blessings speak , 

Be conquered by my instant prayer ; 
Speak, or Thou never hence shalt move, 
And tell me if Thy name be Love. 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 9 1 

'Tis Love ! 'tis Love ! Thou diedst for me ; 

I hear Thy whisper in my heart : 
The morning breaks, the shadows nee ; 

Pure, universal Love> Thou art : 
To me, to all, Thy bowels move : 
Thy nature and Thy name is Love. 

My prayer hath power with God : the grace 

Unspeakable I now receive ; 
Through faith I see Thee face to face ; 

I see Thee face to face, and live ! 
In vain I have not wept and strove ; 
Thy nature and Thy name is Love. 

I know Thee, Saviour, who Thou art, 
Jesus, the feeble sinner's friend : 

Nor wilt Thou with the night depart, 
But stay, and love me to the end : 

Thy mercies never shall remove ; 

Thy nature and Thy name is Love. 

The Sun of Righteousness on me 

Hath risen, with healing in His wings ; 

Withered my nature's strength, from Thee 
My soul its life and succour brings ; 

My help is all laid up above ; 

Thy nature and Thy name is Love. 



92 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Contented now, upon my thigh 
I halt, till life's short journev end ; 

All helplessness, all weakness, I 

On Thee alone for strength depend ; 

Nor have I power from Thee to move ; 

Thy nature and Thy name is Love. 

Lame as I am, I take the prey ; 

Hell, earth, and sin, with ease overcome ; 
I leap for joy, pursue my way, 

And, as a bounding hart, fly home; 
Through all eternity to prove 
Thy nature and Thy name is Love. 

C. Wesley. 



" I HAVE FOUGHT A GOOD FIGHT !" 

THE good fight have fought "- 

O when shall I declare ! 
The victory by my Saviour got, 
I long with Paul to share. 
O may I triumph so, 
When all my warfare 's past ! 
And dying, find my latest foe 
Under my feet at last ! 




WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 93 

This blessed word be mine, 

Just as the port is gained ; — 
" Kept by the power of grace divine 

I have the faith maintained : " 
The apostles of my Lord, 

To whom it first was given, 
They could not speak a greater word, 

Nor all the saints in heaven. 

C. Wesley. 



I WILL GUIDE THEE WITH MINE EYE. 

ilELP, Lord, to whom for help I fly, 
And still my tempted soul stand by, 
Throughout the evil day ! 
The sacred watchfulness impart, 
And keep the issues of my heart, 
And stir me up to pray. 

My soul with Thy whole armour arm ; 
On each approach of sin alarm. 

And show the danger near ; 
Surround, sustain, and strengthen me, 
And fill with godly jealousy, 

And sanctifying fear. 




94 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Whene'er my careless hands hang down, 
O let me see Thy gathering frown, 

And feel Thy warning eye : 
And starting, cry, from ruin's brink, 
" Save, Jesus, or I yield, I sink ! 

O save me, or I die ! " 

If near the pit I rashly stray, 
Before I wholly fall away, 

The keen conviction dart : 
Recall me by that pitying look, 
That kind, upbraiding glance, which broke 

Unfaithful Peter's heart. 

C. Wesley. 

"till the day-spring arise." 



HRIST, whose glory fills the skies, 
Christ, the true, the only Light, 
Sun of Righteousness, arise, 



Triumph o'er the shades of night ; 
Day-spring from on high, be near ! 
Day-star, in my heart appear ! 

Dark and cheerless is the morn 
Unaccompanied by Thee ; 

Joyless is the day's return 

Till Thy mercy's beams I see ; 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 95 

Till they inward light impart, 
Glad my eyes, and warm my heart. 

Visit then this soul of mine, 

Pierce the gloom of sin and grief! 

Fill me, Radiancy Divine, 
Scatter all my unbelief ! 

More and more Thyself display, 

Shining to the perfect day ! 

C. Wesley. 



"l WILL GIVE THEM A HEART OF FLESH." 

JEARY of wandering from my God, 
And now made willing to return, 
I hear, and bow me to the rod ; 
For Him, not without hope, I mourn : 
I have an Advocate above, 
A Friend before the throne of love. 

O Jesu, full of pardoning grace, 
More full of grace than I of sin ; 

Yet once again I seek Thy face, 
Open Thine arms and take me in, 

And freely my backslidings heal, 

And love the faithless sinner still ! 




g6 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Thou know'st the way to bring me back, 

My fallen spirit to restore ; 
Oh for Thy truth and mercy's sake, 

Forgive, and bid me sin no more ! 
The ruins of my soul repair, 
And make my heart an house of prayer ! 

The stone to flesh again convert, 
The veil of sin* once more remove ; 

Drop Thy warm blood upon my heart, 
And melt it with Thy dying love ; 

This rebel heart by love subdue, 

And make it soft, and make it new ! 

Give to mine eyes refreshing tears, 

And kindle my relentings now, 
Fill all my soul with filial fears, 

To Thy sweet yoke my spirit bow ; 
Bend by Thy grace, oh, bend, or break, 
The iron sinew in my neck ! 

Ah ! give me, Lord, the tender heart, 
That trembles at th* approach of sin ; 

A godly fear of sin impart, 

Implant, and root it deep within ; 

That I may dread Thy gracious power, 

And never dare offend Thee more ! 

C. Wesley. 




WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 97 



LORD JESUS; RECEIVE MY SPIRIT ! " 

OHRINKING from the cold hand of 
deaths 
I soon shall gather up my feet ; 
Shall soon resign my mortal breathy 
And die^ my fathers* God to meet. 

Number' d among Thy people, I 
Expect with joy Thv face to see : 

Because Thou didst for sinners die, 
JesuS; in death remember me ! 

Oh that without a lingering groan 
I may the welcome word receive ; 

My body; with my charge; lay down; 
And cease at once to work and live ! 

Walk with me through the dreadful shade. 
And certify that Thou art mine ; 

My spirit; calm and undismayed; 
I shall into Thy hands resign. 

No anxious doubtS; no guilty gloom; 

Shall damp when Jesu's presence cheers ; 
My light; my life, my God is come; 

And glory in his face appears ! 

C. Wesley. 



9 8 



THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



WHEN MY FLESH AND MY HEART FAIL, GOD 
IS THE STRENGTH OF MY HEART, AND MY 
PORTION FOR EVER." 



§lpPn ? N age and feebleness extreme, 
fm||j Who shall a helpless worm redeem ? 
daksffll — Jesus, my only hope Thou art, 

Strength of my failing flesh and heart ! 

Oh ! could I catch a smile from Thee, 

And drop into eternity ! 

C. Wesley. 




" THE END OF ALL THINGS IS AT HAND." 

O many years Pve seen the sun, 

And calPd these hands and eyes my own ; 
!i A thousand little acts Pve done. 
And childhood have, and manhood known : 
Oh what is Life ! and this dull round 
To tread, why was a spirit bound ? 

So many airy draughts and lines, 

And warm excursions of the mind, 
Have filPd my soul with great designs, 

While practice grovel I'd far behind : 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. Q9 

Oh what is thought ! and where withdraw 
The glories which my fancy saw ? 

So many tender joys and woes 

Have on my quivering soul had power ; 

Plain life with heightening passions rose, 
The boast or burden of their hour : 

Oh what is all we feel ! why fled 

Those pains and pleasures o 3 er my head ? 

So many human souls divine, 

So at one interview displayed. 
Some oft and freely mixt with mine, 

In lasting bonds my heart have laid : 
Oh what is Friendship ! w^hy imprest 
On my weak, wretched, dying breast ? 

So many wondrous gleams of light, 

And gentle ardours from above, 
Have made me sit, like seraph bright, 

Some moments on a throne of love : 
Oh what is Virtue ! why had I, 
Who am so low, a taste so high ? 

Ere long, when sovereign wisdom wills, 
My soul an unknown path shall tread, 

And strangely leave, who strangely fills 
This frame, and waft me to the dead : 



TOO 



THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



Oh what is death ! — 'Tis life's last shore. 
Where vanities are vain no more; 
Where all pursuits their goal obtain,, 
And Life is all retouch' d again ; 
Where in their bright results shall rise, 
Thoughts, virtues, friendships, griefs, and joys. 

Gambold. 



I AM THINE, OH SAVE ME ! " 

HAT I am Thine, my Lord and God ! 
Sprinkled and ransom' d byThyblood, — 
Repeat that word once more, 
With such an energy and light, 
That this world's flattery or spite 
To shake me never may have power. 




From various cares my heart retires ; 
Though deep and boundless its desires, 

I 'm now to please but One : 
He, before whom the elders bow, 
With Him is all my business now, 

And with the souls that are His own. 



WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. IOI 

This is my joy (which ne'er can fail), 
To see my Saviour's arm prevail ■ 

To mark the steps of grace ; 
How new-born souls, convinced of sin, 
His blood reveal' d to them within, 

Extol my Lord in every place. 

With these my happy lot is cast : 

Through the world's deserts, rude and waste, 

Or through its gardens fair; 
Whether the storm of malice sweeps, 
Or all in dead supineness sleeps ; 

Still to go on be my whole care. 

See ! the dear flock by Jesus drawn, 
In blest simplicity move on ; 

They trust His shepherd's crook. 
Beholders many faults will find, 
But they can tell their Saviour's mind ; 

Content, if written in His Book. 

No, my dear Lord, in following Thee, 
Not in the dark uncertainly, 

This foot obedient moves : 
'Tis with a brother and a King, 
Who many to His yoke will bring; 

Who ever lives and ever loves. 



102 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Now then, my Way, my Truth, my Life ! 
Henceforth let sorrow, doubt, and strife 

Drop oft* like autumn leaves ; — 
Henceforth, as privileged by Thee, 
Simple and undistracted be 

My soul, which to Thy sceptre cleaves. 

Gambold. 



THIRD PART. 

PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 





wS& 


WSMl 


^^^h^&Si. 


I 


^^ZS^sp^ 


W^W^&- 



THIRD PART. 



I PRESS TOWARDS THE MARK/ 




IS not too hard, too high an aim, 
Secure, thy part in Christ to claim ; n 
The sensual instinct to control, 

And warm with purer fires the soul. 

Nature will raise up all her strife, 

Foe to the flesh-abasing life, 

Loth in a Saviour's death to share, 

Her daily cross compelPd to bear ; 

But grace omnipotent at length 

Shall arm the saint with saving strength ; 

Through the sharp war with aids attend, 

And his long conflict sweetly end. 

Act but the infant's gentle part, 
Give up to love thy willing heart ; 
No fondest parent's tender breast 
Yearns like thv God's to make thee blest : 



106 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Taught its dear mother soon to know, 
The simplest babe its love can show ; 
Bid bashful, servile fear retire, 
The task no labour will require. 

The sovereign Father, good and kind, 
Wants but to have His child resigned ; 
Wants but thy yielded heart, no more, 
With His rich gifts of grace to store. 
He to my soul no anguish brings, 
From thy own stubborn will it springs ; 
That foe but crucify, the bane, — 
Nought shalt thou know of frowns or pain. 

Shake from thy soul, o'erwhelmM, deprest, 
The encumbering load that galls its rest, 
That wastes its strength with bondage vain, 
With courage break the enslaving chain ! 
Let faith exert its conquering power, 
Say, in thy fearing, trembling hour, 
a Father, thy pitying aid impart ! " 
'Tis done ! a sigh can reach His heart- 
Yet if, more earnest plaints to raise, 
Awhile His succours He delays ; 
Though His kind hand thou canst not feel, 
The smart let lenient patience heal : 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. I07 

Or if corruption's strength prevail, 
And oft thy pilgrim footsteps fail, 
Lift for His grace thy louder cries, 
So shalt thou cleansed and stronger rise. 

If haply still thy mental shade 
Deep as the midnight's gloom be made, 
On the sure faithful arm divine 
Firm let thy fastening trust recline. 
The gentlest Sire, the best of friends, 
To thee nor loss nor harm intends ; 
Though tost on the most boisterous main, 
No wreck thy vessel shall sustain. 
Should there remain of rescuing grace 
No glimpse, no shadow left to trace, 
Hear thv Lord's voice, u 'Tis Jesus' will :" 
Believe, thou dark lost pilgrim, still ! 

Then, thy sad night of terrors past, 
Though the dread season long may last, 
Sweet peace shall from the smiling skies 
Like a new dawn before thee rise ; 
Then shall thy faith's firm grounds appear, 
Its eyes shall view salvation clear. 

Be hence encouraged more, when tried, 
On thy best Father to confide. 



108 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

O my too blind but nobler part, 

Be moved ! Be won by these, my heart ; — 

See of how rich a lot, how blest, 

The true believer stands possest. 

Come, backward soul, to God resign; 
Peace, His best blessing, shall be thine 
Boldly recumbent on His care^ 
Cast thy full burden only there. 

From Richter. 



" I AM NOT ASHAMED. 

^]ESUS, and shall it ever be ! 
A mortal man ashamed of Thee ! 
Ashamed of Thee, whom angels praise ; 
Whose glories shine to endless days. 

Ashamed of Jesus ! sooner far 
Let evening blush to own a star : 
He sheds His beams of light divine 
O'er this benighted soul of mine. 

Ashamed of Jesus ! just as soon 
Let midnight be ashamed of noon : 
'Tis midnight with my soul till He, 
Bright Morning Star, bids darkness flee. 




PERIOD OF GEORGE III. IC9 

Ashamed of Jesus ! that dear friend, 
On whom my hopes of heaven depend ! 
No, — when I blush, be this my shame, 
That I no more revere His name. 

Ashamed of Jesus, yes, I may, 
When Pve no guilt to wash away ; 
No tear to wipe, no good to crave ; 
No fears to quell, no soul to save. 

Till then, — nor is my boasting vain, 
— Till then, I boast a Saviour slain : 
And oh, may this my glory be, 
That Christ is not ashamed of me. 

Grigg. 



TO KNOW THE LOVE OF CHRIST, WHICH 
PASSETH KNOWLEDGE." 

HAPPINESS ! thou lovely name, 

Where 's thy seat ? O tell me where ! 
Learning, pleasure, wealth and fame, 
All cry out, " It is not here." 
Not the wisdom of the wise 
Can inform me where it lies ; 
Not the grandeur of the great 
Can the bliss T seek create. 




IIO THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Object of my first desire, 

Jesus ! crucified for me, 
All to happiness aspire, 

Only to be found in Thee ' 
Thee to praise and Thee to know, 
Constitute our bliss below ; 
Thee to see, and Thee to love, 
Constitute our bliss above. 

Lord ! it is not life to live, 

If Thy presence Thou deny. 
Lord ! if Thou Thy presence give, 

'Tis no longer death to die. 
Source and Giver of repose, 
Singly from Thy smile it flows ; 
Peace and happiness are Thine ; 
Mine they are, if Thou art mine. 

Whilst I feel Thy love to me, 

Every object teems with joy : 
Here, O may I walk with Thee, 

Then into Thy presence die ! 
Let me but Thyself possess, 
Total sum of happiness ! 
Real bliss I then shall prove, 
Heaven below, and heaven above. 

Toplady. 




PERIOD OF GEORGE III. HI 



LET THIS MIND BE IN YOU, WHICH WAS IN 
CHRIST JESUS.^ 

j|QRD, I feel a carnal mind, 
That hangs about me still, 
Vainly though I strive to bind 
My own rebellious will : — 
Is not haughtiness of heart 

The gulf between my God and me ? 
Meek Redeemer, now impart 
Thine own humility. 

Fain would I my Lord pursue, 

Be all my Saviour taught ; 
Do as Jesus bids me do, 

And think as Jesus thought : 
But His Thou must change my heart, 

The perfect gift must come from Thee : 
Meek Redeemer, now impart 

Thine own humility. 

Lord, I cannot, must not rest, 

Till I Thy mind obtain, 
Chase presumption from my breast, 

And all Thy mildness gain ! 



112 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Give me, Lord, Thy gentle heart, 
Thy lowly mind my portion be : 

Meek Redeemer, now impart 
Thine own humility. 

Let Thy cross my will control, 

Conform me to my Guide ; 
In Thine image mould my soul, 

And crucify my pride : 
Give me, Lord, a contrite heart, 

A heart that always looks to Thee : 
Meek Redeemer, now impart 

Thine own humility. 

Tear away my every boast, 

My stubborn mind abase ; 
Saviour ! fix my only trust 

In Thy Redeeming grace : 
Give me a submissive heart, 

From pride and self-dependence free; 
Meek Redeemer, now impart 

Thine own humilitv ! 



Toplady. 




PERIOD OF GEORGE III. H3 



" MY MEDITATION OF HIM SHALL BE SWEET. 

HEN languor and disease invade 

This trembling house of clay, 
'Tis sweet to look beyond our cage, 
And long to soar away. 

Sweet to look inward, and attend 

The whispers of His love ; 
Sweet to look upward to the throne, 

Where Jesus pleads above. 

Sweet to look back, and see my name 
In life's fair book markM down ; 

Sweet to look forward, and behold 
Eternal joys my own. 

Sweet to reflect how grace divine 

My sins on Jesus laid ; 
Sw r eet to remember that His blood 

My debt of suffering paid. 

Sweet in His righteousness to stand, 
Which saves from second death ; 

Sweet to experience, day by day, 
His Spirit's quickening breath. 



114 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Sweet on His faithfulness to rest, 

Whose love can never end ; 
Sweet on His covenant of grace 

For all things to depend. 

Sweet in the confidence of faith 

To trust His firm decrees ; 
Sweet to lie passive in His hand, 

And have no will but His. 

Sweet to rejoice in lively hope, 
That when my change shall come, 

Angels will hover round my bed, 
And waft my spirit home. 

There shall my dis-imprisonM soul 

Behold Him and adore; 
Be with His likeness satisfied, 

And grieve and sin no more : 

Shall see Him wear that very flesh 
On which my guilt was lain ; 

His love intense, His merit fresh, 
As though but newly slain. 

Soon, too, my slumbering dust shall hear 
The trumpet's quickening sound ! 

And by my Saviour's power rebuilt, 
At His right hand be found. 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. H5 

These eyes shall see Him in that day; 

The God that died for me ; 
And all my rising bones shall say, 

Lord, who is like to Thee ! 

If such the views which grace unfolds, 

Weak as it is below, 
What raptures must the Church above, 

In Jesu's presence, know ! 

If such the sweetness of the stream, 

What must that fountain be, 
Where saints and angels draw their bliss 

Immediately from Thee ! 

O may the unction of these truths 

For ever with me stay ; 
Till from her sinful cage dismissed, 

My spirit flies away ! 

Toplady. 



CHRIST IN YOU, THE HOPE OF GLORY. 

iUPREME High-Priest, the pilgrim's light, 

My heart for Thee prepare ; 
\ Thine image stamp, and deeply write 
Thy superscription there : 




Il6 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Ah, let my forehead bear Thv seal, 

My arm Thy badge retain ; 
My heart the inward witness feel 

That I am born again ! 

Into Thy humble mansion come, 

Set up Thy dwelling here ; 
Possess my heart, and leave no room 

For sin to harbour there : 
Ah, give me, Lord, the single eye, 

Which aims at nought but Thee : 
I fain would live, and yet not I, 

But Jesus live in me. 

O that the penetrating sight 

And eaglets eye were mine ! 
Undazzled at the boundless light 

Of Majesty divine : 
That with the armies of the sky 

I, too, may sit and sing, 
Add, Saviour, to the eagle's eye, 

The dove's aspiring wing. 

Toplady. 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. II 7 




" GIVE ME UNDERSTANDING, ACCORDING TO THY 
WORD." 

THAT my heart was right with Thee, 
And loved Thee with a perfect love ! 
O that my Lord would dwell in me, 
And never from His seat remove ! 
Jesus, apply Thy pardoning blood, 
And make this bosom fit for God. 

Saviour, I dwell in awful night 
Until Thou in my heart appear ; 

Arise, propitious Sun, and light 
An everlasting morning there : 

Thy presence casts the shadows by; 

If Thou withdraw, how dark am I ! 

Lord, how should Thy servant see, 
Unless Thou give me seeing eyes? 

Well may I fall, if out of Thee ! 
If out of Thee, how should I rise ? 

1 wander wide without Thy aid, 
And lose my way in midnight shade. 



Il8 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

O let my prayer acceptance find, 

And bring the mighty blessing down ; 

Eyesight impart, for I am blind ; 
And seal me Thine adopted son : 

A fallen, helpless creature take, 

And heir of Thy salvation make. 

Toplady. 

" WHAT SON IS HE WHOM THE FATHER 
CHASTENETH NOT ? " 



HE path of sorrow, and that path alone, 
Leads to the land where sorrow is un- 
known : 

No traveller ever reachM that blest abode, 
Who found not thorns and briars in his road. 
The world may dance along the flowery plain, 
CheerM as they go by many a sprightly strain ; 
Where Nature has her mossy velvet spread, 
With unshod feet they yet securely tread ; 
AdmonishM, scorn the caution and the friend, 
Bent all on pleasure, heedless of its end : 
But He, who knew what human hearts would 

prove, 
How slow to learn the dictates of His love, 
That, hard by nature and of stubborn will, 
A life of ease would make them harder still, 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. II9 

In pity to the souls His grace designed 

To rescue from the ruins of mankind, 

CalPd for a cloud to darken all their years, 

And said, €C Go, spend them in the vale of tears ! " 

balmy gales of soul- reviving air ! 

O salutary streams, that murmur there ! 

These, flowing from the fount of grace above, 

Those, breathed from lips of everlasting love. 

The flinty soil indeed their feet annoys ; 

Chill blasts of trouble nip their springing joys ; 

An envious world will interpose its frown, 

To mar delights superior to its own * 

And many a pang, experienced still within, 

Reminds them of their hated inmate, Sin : 

But ills of every shape and every name, 

Transformed to blessings, miss their cruel aim ; 

And every moment's calm that soothes the breast 

Is given in earnest of eternal rest. 

Ah, be not sad, although thy lot be cast 
Far from the flock, and in a boundless waste ! 
No shepherds' tents within thy view appear, 
But the Chief Shepherd even there is near ; 
Thy tender sorrows and thy plaintive strain 
Flow in a foreign land, but not in vain ; 




120 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Thy tears all issue from a source divine, 
And every drop bespeaks a Saviour thine : 
So once in Gideon's fleece the dews were found, 
And drought on all the drooping herbs around. 

Coiuper, 

" O THAT MY WAYS WERE DIRECTED TO KEEP 
THY STATUTES." 

H ! for a closer walk with God, 
A calm and heavenly frame ; 
A light to shine upon the road 
That leads me to the Lamb ! 

"Where is the blessedness I knew 

When first I saw the Lord ? 
Where is the soul-refreshing view 

Of Jesus, and His word ? 

What peaceful hours I once enjoyed ! 

How sweet their memory still ! 
But they have left an aching void, 

The world can never fill. 

Return, O holy Dove, return, 

Sweet messenger of rest ! 
I hate the sins that made Thee mourn, 

And drove Thee from my breast. 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 121 

The dearest idol I have known, 

Whatever that idol be, 
Help me to tear it from Thy throne, 

And worship only Thee. 

So shall my walk be close with God, 

Calm and serene my frame : 
So purer light shall mark the road 

That leads me to the Lamb. 

Coivper. 



WHEN THOU W^NTEST AFTER ME IN THE 
WILDERNESS." 



AR from the world, O Lord ! I flee, 

From strife and tumult far ; 
From scenes where Satan wages still 



His most successful war. 

The calm retreat, the silent shade, 
With prayer and praise agree, 

And seem by Thy sweet bounty made 
For those who follow Thee. 

There if Thy Spirit touch the soul, 

And grace her mean abode, 
Oh ! with what peace, and joy, and love, 

She communes with her God ! 



122 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

There, like the nightingale, she pours 

Her solitary lays ; 
Nor asks a witness of her song, 

Nor thirsts for human praise. 

Author and Guardian of my life, 

Sweet source of life divine ; 
And — all harmonious names in one — 

My Saviour, Thou art mine ! 

What thanks I owe Thee, and what love ! 

A boundless, endless store, 
Shall echo through the realms above, 

When time shall be no more. 

Cowper. 



BUT HOW TO PERFORM THAT WHICH IS 
GOOD, I FIND NOT." 



EAK and irresolute is man ; 

The purpose of to-day, 
Woven with pains into his plan, 
To-morrow rends away. 

The bow well bent, and smart the spring, 

Vice seems already slain ; 
But passion rudely snaps the string, 

And it revives again. 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 1 23 

Some foe to his upright intent 

Finds out his weaker part ; 
Virtue engages his assent, 

But pleasure wins his heart. 

'Tis here the folly of the wise 

Through all his art we view ; 
And while his tongue the charge denies, 

His conscience owns it true. 

Bound on a voyage of awful length, 

And dangers little known, 
A stranger to superior strength, 

Man vainly trusts his own. 

But oars alone can ne'er prevail 

To reach the distant coast ; 
The breath of heaven must swell the sail, 

Or all the toil is lost. 

Cowper. 



I HID MY FACE FROM THEE FOR A MOMENT/' 

HEN darkness long has veilM my mind, 

And smiling day once more appears, 
Then, my Redeemer, then I find 
The folly of my doubts and fears. 




124 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Straight I upbraid my wandering heart, 
And blush that I should ever be 

Thus prone to act so base a part, 

Or harbour one hard thought of Thee. 

Oh ! let me then at length be taught 
What I am still so slow to learn, 

That God is love, and changes not, 
Nor knows the shadow of a turn. 

Sweet truth, and easy to repeat ! 

But when my faith is sharply tried, 
I find myself a learner yet, 

Unskilful, weak, and apt to slide. 

But, O my Lord, one look from Thee 

Subdues the disobedient will ; 
Drives doubt and discontent away, 

And thy rebellious worm is still. 

Thou art as ready to forgive 

As I am ready to repine ; 
Thou, therefore, all the praise receive ; 

Be shame and self-abhorrence mine. 

Cowper. 




PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 1 25 



ASK, AND IT SHALL BE GIVEN YOU. 

HAT various hindrances we meet 
In coming to a mercy- seat ! 
Yet who, that knows the worth of 
prayer, 
But wishes to be often there ? 

Prayer makes the darkened cloud withdraw ; 
Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw ; 
Gives exercise to faith and love ; 
Brings every blessing from above. 

Restraining prayer, we cease to fight ; 
Prayer makes the Christian's armour bright ; 
And Satan trembles when he sees 
The weakest saint upon his knees. 

While Moses stood with arms spread wide, 
Success was found on IsraePs side ; 
But when through weariness they faiPd, 
That moment Amalek prevaiPd. 

Have you no words ? ah ! think again, 
Words flow apace when you complain, 
And fill your fellow- creature's ear 
With the sad tale of all your care. 




126 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Were half the breath thus vainly spent, 
To heaven in supplication sent, 
Your cheerful song would oftener be, 
" Hear what the Lord has done for me." 

Cowper. 



WHO COMFORTETH US IN ALL OUR 
TRIBULATION." 

^jONG plunged in sorrow, I resign 
My soul to that dear hand of Thine, 
Without reserve or fear ; 
That hand shall wipe my streaming eyes, 
Or into smiles of glad surprise 
Transform the falling tear ! 

My sole possession is Thy love ; 
In earth beneath, or heaven above, 

I have no other store ; 
And though with fervent suit I pray, 
And importune Thee night and day, 

I ask Thee nothing more. 

My hours, with undiminished force 
And speed, pursue their destined course 
Obedient to Thy will : 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 127 

Nor would I murmur at my doom. 
Though still a sufferer from the womb, 
And doomM to suffer still. 

By Thy command, where'er I stray, 
Sorrow attends me all my way, 

A never-failing friend ; 
And if my sufferings may augment 
Thy praise, behold me well content, — 

Let sorrow still attend ! 

It costs me no regret, that she 

Who followed Christ, should follow me : 

And though, where'er she goes, 
Thorns spring spontaneous at her feet, 
I love her, and extract a sweet 

From all my bitter woes. 

Cowper,from Mad. Guion. 



MY SOUL IS EVEN AS A WEANED CHILD. 






UIET, Lord, my froward heart : 
Make me teachable and mild, 
Upright, simple, free from art ; 
Make me as a weaned child ; 
From distrust and envy free, 
Pleased with all that pleases Thee. 



1^8 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

What Thou shalt to-day provide, 

Let me as a child receive ; 
What to-morrow may betide, 

Calmly to Thy wisdom leave : 
'Tis enough that Thou wilt care, 
Why should I the burden bear ? 

As a little child relies 

On a care beyond his own ; 
Knows he's neither strong nor wise; 

Fears to stir a step alone ; 
Let me thus with Thee abide, 
As my Father, Guard, and Guide. 

Thus preserved from Satan's wiles, 
Safe from dangers, free from fears, 

May I live upon Thy smiles^ 
Till the promised hour appears, 

When the sons of God shall prove 

All their Father's boundless love. 

Newton. 

"a friend that sticketh closer than a 

BROTHER." 



NE there is, above all others, 
Well deserves the name of 
Friend ; 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 129 

His is love beyond a brother* s, 

Costly,, free, and knows no end ! 
They who once His kindness prove 
Find it everlasting love. 



Which of all our friends, to save us, 
Could or would have shed his blood ? 

But our Jesus died to have us 
Reconciled in Him to God : 

This was boundless love indeed ! 

Jesus is a friend in need. 

When He lived on earth abased, 
Friend of sinners was His name ; 

Now, above all glory raised, 
He rejoices in the same : 

Still He calls them brethren, friends, 

And to all their wants attends. 

Could we bear from one another 
What He daily bears from us ? 

Yet this glorious Friend and Brother 
Loves us though we treat Him thus ! 

Though for good we render ill, 

He accounts us brethren still. 




13° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Oh ! for grace our hearts to soften; 

Teach us, Lord, at length to love ; 
We, alas ! forget too often 

What a friend we have above : 
But, when home our souls are brought, 
We will love Thee as we ought. 

Newton. 

" ASK WHAT I SHALL GIVE THEE." 

10 ME, my soul, thy suit prepare, 
Jesus loves to answer prayer; 
He himself has bid thee pray, 
Therefore will not say thee nay. 

Thou art coming to a King, 
Large petitions with thee brings 
For His grace and power are such, 
None can ever ask too much. 

With my burden I begin ; 
Lord ! remove this load of sin ! 
Let Thy blood, for sinners spilt, 
Set my conscience free from guilt. 

Lord, I come to Thee for rest, 

Take possession of my breast ; 

There Thy blood-bought right maintain, 

And without a rival reign. 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 131 

As the image in the glass 
Answers the beholder's face, 
Thus unto my heart appear, 
Print Thine own resemblance there. 

While I am a pilgrim here, 

Let Thy love my spirit cheer ; 

As my Guide, my Guard, my Friend, 

Lead me to my journey's end. 

Show me what I have to do ; 
Every hour my strength renew : 
Let me live a life of faith 
Let me die Thy people's death. 

Newton. 



THY JUDGMENTS ARE LIKE THE GREAT DEEP." 

"N every object here I see 
Something, O Lord, that leads to 
Thee : 
Firm as the rocks Thy promise stands, 
Thy mercies countless as the sands ; 
Thy love, a sea immensely wide, 
Thy grace, an ever-flowing tide. 
9 * 




132 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

In every object here I see 

Something, my heart, that points at Thee : 

Hard as the rocks that bound the strand, 

Unfruitful as the barren sand, 

Deep and deceitful as the ocean, 

And, like the tides, in constant motion. 

Newton. 



AND SUCH AN HIGH PRIEST BECAME US. 

]HERE high the heavenly temple 
stands, 
The house of God not made with 
hands, 
A great High Priest our nature wears, 
The guardian of mankind appears. 

He who for men their surety stood, 
And pour'd on earth His precious blood, 
Pursues in heaven His mighty plan, 
The Saviour and the friend of man. - 

Though now ascended up on high, 
He bends on earth a brother's eye : 
Partaker of the human name, 
He knows the frailty of our frame. 




PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 1 33 

Our fellow- sufferer yet retains 
A fellow-feeling of our pains ; 
And still remembers in the skies 
His tears. His agonies, and cries. 

In every pang that rends the heart, 
The Man of Sorrows had a part ; 
He sympathizes with our grief, 
And to the sufferer sends relief. 

With boldness, therefore, at the throne, 
Let us make all our sorrows known, 
And ask the aid of heavenly power 
To help us in the evil hour. 

Bruce, published ly Logan, 



THE LORD OF HOSTS SHALL REIGN IN 
MOUNT ZION." 



EHOLD ! the mountain of the Lord 
In latter days shall rise 
? On mountain tops, above the hills, 




And draw the wondering eyes. 



134 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

To this the joyful nations round, 
All tribes and tongues, shall flow ; 

Up to the hill of God, they'll say, 
And to His house, we'll go. 

The beam that shines from Zion's hill 

Shall lighten every land ; 
The King who reigns in Salem's towers 

Shall all the world command. 

Among the nations He shall judge ; 

His judgments truth shall guide; 
His sceptre shall protect the just, 

And quell the sinner's pride. 

No strife shall vex Messiah's reign, 

Or mar the peaceful years ; 
To ploughshares men shall beat their swords, 

To pruning-hooks their spears. 

No longer hosts, encountering hosts, 
Shall crowds of slain deplore ; 

They hang the trumpet in the hall, 
And study war no more. 

Come then, O come from every land, 

To worship at His shrine, 
And, walking in the light of God, 

With holy beauties shine. 

Bruce, published by Logan. 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 1 35 




WHAT I DO THOU KNOWEST NOT NOW/' 

^|^HE world can neither give nor take, 
Nor can it comprehend 
The peace of God, which Christ has 
bought ; 
The peace which knows no end. 

The burning bush was not consumed 

Whilst God remained there ; 
The threes when Jesus made the fourth. 

Found fire as soft as air. 

God^s furnace doth in Zion stand : 

But Zion*s God sits bv, 
As the refiner views his gold 

With an observant eve. 

His thoughts are high, His love is wise, 

His wounds a cure intend ; 
And, though He does not always smile, 

He loves unto the end. 

Countess of Huntingdon* 




I36 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



A MAN OF SORROWS. 

IAN of sorrows, and acquainted 
With our griefs, what shall we say ? 
Never yet hath language painted 
All the woes that on Thee lay. 
Had I seen Thee, clothed in weakness, 
Bearing our reproach with meekness, 
To attend Thee day and night 
Would have been my heart's delight. 

Oh that to this heavenly Stranger 

I had here my homage paid, * 
From His first sigh in the manger, 

Till He cried ">Tis Finished!" 
That first sigh had consecrated 
Me His own, and I had waited 

On Him from His infancy 

In a constant liturgy. 

Walking, speaking, in devotion, 

Far to fields or forests strayM, 
I had watched every motion, 

And my Lord my pattern made : 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 

More have angels ne'er desired, 

Than on Him, or far retired, 
Or at home, awake, asleep, 
FixM their wondering eyes to keep. 

Tell me, little flock beloved, 
Ye on whom shone Jesu's face, 

What within your souls then moved, 
When ye felt His kind embrace ! 

disciple, once most blessed, 
As a bosom friend caressed, 

Say, could e'er into thy mind 
Other objects entrance find ! 

Oft to prayer, by night retreated, 

See Him, from all search withdrawn ; 

Tearful eyes, and sighs repeated, 
Witnessed still the morning dawn : 

There, where He made intercession, 

1 had pourM forth my confession • 

And where for my sins He wept, 
Praying, I the watch had kept. 

Should I thus to Thee have cleaved, 
'Midst Thy poverty and woes, 

On Thee, as my Lord, believed — 
Or perhaps have joinM Thy foes ? 



137 




I38 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Ah ! Thy mercy I had spurned ; 

But Thyself my heart hast turned ; 
Now, Thou know'st, beneath, above. 
Nought compared with Thee I love. 

C. J. Latrohe,from Bishop Gregor, 



LAY NOT UP TREASURES UPON EARTH. 

]HAT is this passing scene ? 
A peevish April-day ! 
A little sun, — a little rain, — 
And then night sweeps along the plain, 
And all things fade away: 
Man, soon discussed, 
Yields up his trust ; 
And all his hopes and fears lie with him in the dust ! 

And what is beauty^s power ? 

It flourishes and dies ; 
Will the cold earth its silence break, 
To tell how soft, how smooth a cheek 
Beneath its surface lies ? 
Mute, mute is all 
O'er beauty's fall ; 
Her praise resounds no more, when mantled in her 
pall. 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. I39 

The most beloved on earth 

Not long survives to-day ; 
So music past is obsolete, 
And yet 'twas sweet, 'twas passing sweet, 
But now 'tis gone away : 
Thus does the shade 
In memory fade, 
When in forsaken tomb the form beloved is laid ! 

Then since this world is vain 

And volatile and fleet, 
Why should I lay up earthly joys, 
Where rust corrupts and moth destroys. 
And cares and sorrows eat ? 
Why fly from ill 
With anxious skill, 
When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing 
heart lie still ? 

Kirke White. 



A MAN SHALL BE AS AN HIDING-PLACE/' 

I WAKE, sweet harp of Judah, wake, 
Retime thy strings for Jesus^ sake ; 
W. We sing the Saviour of our race, 
The Lamb, our shield and hiding-place. 




140 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG 

When God's right hand is bared for war, 
And thunders clothe His cloudy car, 
Where, where, oh where, shall man retire, 
To 'scape the horrors of His ire ? 

'Tis He, the Lamb, to Him we fly, 
While the dread tempest passes by ; 
God sees His well-beloved's face, 
And spares us in our hiding-place. 

Thus while we dwell in this low scene, 
The Lamb is our unfailing screen ; 
To Him, though guilty, still we run, 
And God still spares us for His Son. 

While yet we sojourn here below, 
Pollutions still our hearts overflow ; 
Fall'n, abject, mean, a sentenced race, 
We deeply need a hiding-place. 

Yet courage ! — days and years will glide, 
And we shall lay these clods aside; 
Shall be baptized in Jordan's flood, 
And washM in Jesus' cleansing blood. 

Then pure, immortal, sinless, freed, 
We through the Lamb shall be decreed ; 
Shall meet the Father face to face, 
And need no more a hiding-place, 

Kirke White. 



PERIOD OF GEORGE LI. I4 1 



HERE HAVE WE NO CONTINUING CITY/ 



H) 



H ! when did wisdom covet length of 

days, 
Or seek its bliss in pleasure, wealth, or 
praise ? 
No : — wisdom views with an indifferent eye 
All finite joys, all blessings born to die. 
The soul on earth is an immortal guest, 
CompelPd to starve at an unreal feast : 
A spark that upward tends by nature's force ; 
A stream diverted from its parent source ; 
A drop dissevered from the boundless sea ; 
A moment^ parted from eternity ! 
A pilgrim,, panting for a rest to come ; 
An exile, anxious for his native home. 

Kirke White. 



YET IN MY FLESH SHALL I SEE GOD. 



HROUGH sorrow's night and danger's 
path, 
Amidst the deepening gloom, 




H 2 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

We, soldiers of an injured King, 
Are marching to the tomb. 

There, when the turmoil is no more, 

And all our powers decay, 
Our cold remains in solitude 

Shall sleep the years away. 

Our labours done, securely laid 

In this our last retreat, 
Unheeded, o'er our silent dust 

The storms of life shall beat. 

Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane. 

The vital spark shall lie ; 
For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise 

To see its kindred sky. 

These ashes, too, this little dust, 

Our Father's care shall keep, 
Till the last angel rise, and break 

The long and dreary sleep. 

Kirke White. 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. Hi 



LESS THAN THE LEAST OF ALL SAINTS/ 



SAINT ! Oh would that I could claim 
The privileged, the honoured name, 
! And confidently take my stand, 



Though lowest, in the saintly band ! 

Would, though it were in scorn applied, 
That term the test of truth could bide ! 
Like kingly salutations given 
In mockery to the King of Heaven. 

A Saint ! And what imports the name 
Thus bandied in derision's game? 
u Holy, and separate from sin ; 
To good, nay, even to God akin." 

Is such the meaning of a name, 

From which a Christian shrinks with shame ? 

Yes, dazzled with the glorious sight, 

He owns his crown is all too bright ! 

And ill might son of Adam dare 
Alone such honour's weight to bear ; 
But fearlessly he takes the load, 
United to the Son of God. 



144 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

A Saint ! Oh give me but some sign, 
Some seal to prove the title mine, 
And warmer thanks thou shalt command, 
Than bringing kingdoms in thine hand* 

Oh for an interest in that name, 
When hell shall ope its jaws of flame, 
And scorners to their doom be hurPd, 
While scorned saints " shall judge the world ! ' 

How shall the name of saints be prized, 
Though now neglected and despised, 
When truth shall witness to the word, 
That none but saints " shall see the Lord ! " 

Marriott. 



MY SOUL IS EVEN AS A WEANED CHILD. 

^ESUS, cast a look on me ; 
Give me sweet simplicity ; 
Make me poor and keep me low, 
Seeking only Thee to know. 

Weaned from my lordly self; 
Weaned from the miser's pelf ; 




PERIOD OF GEORGE III. I45 

Weaned from the scorner's ways, 
Weaned from the lust of praise. 

All that feeds my busy pride, 
Cast it evermore aside ; 
Bid my will to Thine submit ; 
Lay me humbly at Thy feet. 

Make me like a little child ; 
Of my strength and wisdom spoiPd ; 
Seeing only in Thy light ; 
Walking only in Thy might. 

Leaning on Thy loving breast, 
Where a weary soul may rest ; 
Feeling well the peace of God, 
Flowing from Thy precious blood ! 

In this posture let me live, 
And Hosannas daily give ; 
In this temper let me die, 
And Hosannas ever cry ! 

Berridge. 



10 




I46 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



'* THE PRINCE OF PEACE. 

3HEN Jordan hush'd his waters still, 
And silence slept on Sion hill ; 
When Bethlehem's shepherds through 
the night 
Watch' d o'er their flocks by starry light : 

Hark ! from the midnight hills around, 
A voice of more than mortal sound 
In distant Hallelujahs stole, 
Wild murmuring o'er the raptured soul. 

Then swift to every startled eye, 
New streams of glory light the sky ; 
Heaven burst her azure gates to pour 
Her spirits to the midnight hour ! 

On wheels of light, on wings of flame, 

The glorious hosts of Sion came ; 

High heaven with songs of triumph rang ; 

While thus they struck their harps and sang, — 

" Oh, Sion ! lift thy raptured eye, 
The long-expected hour is nigh ; 
The joys of nature rise again, 
The Prince of Salem comes to reign! 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 147 

See, Mercy from her golden urn 
Pours a rich stream to them that mourn ; 
Behold, she binds, with tender care, 
The bleeding bosom of despair ! 

He comes ! to cheer the trembling heart ; 
Bids Satan and his host depart ; 
Again the Day-star gilds the gloom, 
Again the bowers of Eden bloom ! 

Oh, Sion ! lift thy raptured eve, 
The long-expected hour is nigh; 
The joys of nature rise again, 
The Prince of Salem comes to reign." 

Camp I ell. 

Ci CLOUDS AND DARKNESS ARE ROUND ABOUT 
HIM." 

] AIT, O my soul, thy Maker's will ; 
Tumultuous passions, all be still ! 
Nor let a murmuring thought arise ; 
His ways are just, His counsels wise. 

He in the thickest darkness dwells ; 
Performs His work, — the cause conceals, 
But though His methods are unknown, 
Judgment and truth support His throne. 
10 * 




H% THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Wait, therij my sou], submissive wait, 
Prostrate before His awful seat : 
And 'midst the terrors of His rod, 
Trust in a wise and gracious God. 

Beddome. 



WHO ART THOU, THAT REPLIEST AGAINST GOD? " 



SPIRIT passM before me : I beheld 
The face of immortality unveiPd — 
! Deep sleep came down on every eye save 
mine — 
And there it stood — all formless, but divine : 
Along my bones the creeping flesh did quake ; 
And as my damp hair stiffened, thus it spake, — 

" Is man more just than God ? is man more pure 
Than He who deems even Seraphs insecure ? 
Creatures of clay — vain dwellers in the dust ! 
The moth survives you, and are ye more just ? 
Things of a day ! you wither ere the night, 
Heedless and blind to Wisdom's wasted light ! " 

Byron. 



PERIOD OF GEORGE III. I49 



THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. 



HE Assyrian came down like the wolf on 

the fold, 
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple 



and gold ; 
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the 

sea, 
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. 

Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, 
That host with their banners at sunset were seen : 
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath 

blown, 
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. 

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the 

blast, 
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passM ; 
And the eyes of the sleepers waxM deadly and chill, 
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever 

grew still ! 

And there lay the steed, with his nostril all wide, 
But through it there rollM not the breath of his 
pride ! 



J 5° 



THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, 
&nd cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 

And there lay the rider distorted and pale, 

With the dew on his brow, and the rust on bis 

mail : 
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone 
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. 

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, 
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; 
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the 

sword, 
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! 

Byron. 



FOURTH PART. 

MODERN: DECEASED WRITERS. 



FOURTH PART. 



HE HUMBLED HIMSELF, AND BECAME OBEDIENT 
UNTO DEATH." 



O conquer and to save, the Son of God 
Came to His own in great humility, 
Who wont to ride on cherub- wings abroad, 

And round Him wrap the mantle of the sky. 

The mountains bent their necks to form His road ; 

The clouds dropt down their fatness from on high ; 

Beneath His feet the wild waves softly flowed, 

And the wind kissM His garment tremblingly. 

The grave unbolted half his grisly door ; 
(For darkness and the deep had heard His fame, 
Nor longer might their ancient rule endure ;) 
The mightiest of mankind stood hush'd and tame ; 
And, trooping on strong wing, His angels came 
To work His will, and kingdom to secure : 
No strength He needed save His Father's name; 
Babes were His heralds, and His friends the poor. 

Heber. 



154 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



LET US NOT SLEEP, AS DO OTHERS/ 



ENEATH our feet and o'er our head 
Is equal warning given; 
r Beneath us lie the countless dead, 
Above us is the heaven ! 



Their names are graven on the stone, 
Their bones are in the clay ; 

And ere another day is gone, 
Ourselves may be as they. 

Death rides on every passing breeze, 

He lurks in every flower ; 
Each season has its own disease, 

Its peril every hour ! 

Our eyes have seen the rosy light 
Of youth's soft cheek decay, 

And Fate descend in sudden night 
On manhood's middle dav. 



modern: deceased writers. T55 

Our eyes have seen the steps of age 

Halt feebly towards the tomb ; 
And yet shall earth our hearts engage, 

And dreams of days to come ? 

Turn, mortal, turn ! thy danger know ; 

Where'er thy foot can tread, 
The earth rings hollow from below, 

And warns thee of her dead ! 

Turn, Christian, turn ! thy soul apply 

To truths divinely given ; 
The bones that underneath thee lie 

Shall live for hell or heaven ! 

Heler. 



THEM WHICH SLEEP IN JESUS WILL GOD BRING 
WITH HIM." 

^|HOU art gone to the grave, but we will 
not deplore thee, 
Though sorrows and darkness encom- 
pass the tomb ; 
Thy Saviour has passed through its portal before 
thee, 
And the lamp of His love is thy guide through 
the o;loom. 




156 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Thou art gone to the grave ! we no longer behold 
thee, 
Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy 
side; 
But the wide arms of Mercy are spread to enfold 
thee, 
And sinners may hope, for the Sinless hat! 
died. 

Thou art gone to the grave ! and, its mansion for- 
saking, 
Perchance thy weak spirit in fear lingered long ; 
But the sunshine of heaven beamM bright on thy 
waking, 
And the sound which thou heard'st was the 
Seraphim's song. 

Thou art gone to the grave ! but we will not de- 
plore thee, 
Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian, th} 
guide : 
He gave thee, He took thee and He will restore 
thee; 
And death hath no sting, for the Saviour hath 

died. 

Heber. 




modern: deceased writers. 157 



r JOY AMONG THE ANGELS OF GOD." 

^HERE was joy in heaven ! 
There was joy in heaven ! 
When this goodly world to frame 
The Lord of might and mercy came : 
Shouts of joy were heard on high, 
And the stars sang from the sky — 
" Glory to God in heaven ! " 

There was joy in heaven ! 

There was joy in heaven ! 
When the billows, heaving dark, 
Sank around the stranded ark ; 
Arid the rainbow' s watery span 
Spake of mercy, hope to man, 

And peace with God in heaven ! 

There was joy in heaven ! 

There was joy in heaven ! 
When of love the midnight beam 
Dawned on the towers of Bethlehem ; 
And along the echoing hill 
Angels sang, " On earth good will, 
And glory in the heaven ! 3) 



I58 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

There is joy in heaven ! 
There is joy in heaven ! 
When the sheep that went astray 
Turns again to Zion's way : 
When the soul, by grace subdued, 
Sobs its prayer of gratitude ; 
Then is joy in heaven ! 

Heber. 




u JESUS SAITH UNTO HIM, FOLLOW ME ! " 

HILD of man, whose seed below 
Must fulfil their race of woe ; 
Heir of want, and doubt, ana pain, 

Does thy fainting heart complain ? 

Oh ! in thought, one night recall, 

Night of grief in Herod's hall ; 

There I bore the vengeance due, 

Freely bore it all for you. 

Child of dust, corruption's son, 
By pride deceived, by pride undone, 
Willing captive, yet be free ; 
Take my yoke, and learn of Me : 



modern: deceased writers. 159 

I, of heaven and earth the Lord, 
God with God; the eternal Word, 
I forsook My Father's side, 
ToiPd and wept, and bled and died. 

Child of doubt, does fear surprise, 
Vexing thoughts within thee rise; 
Wondering, murmuring, dost thou gaze, 
On evil men and evil days ? 
Oh ! if darkness round thee lour, 
Darker far My dying hour, 
Which bade that fearful cry awake, 
My God, My God ! dost Thou forsake ? 

Child of sin, by guilt oppressed, 
Heaves at last thy throbbing breast ; 
Hast thou felt the mourner's part ? 
Fear 5 st thou now thy failing heart ? 
Bear thee on, beloved of God ; 
Tread the path thy Saviour trod ; 
He the Tempter's power hath known, 
He hath pourM the garden groan. 

Child of heaven, by Me restored, 
Love thy Saviour, serve thy Lord \ 
SeaPd with that mysterious Name, 
Bear thy cross, and scorn the shame; 



160 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Then, like Me, thy conflict o'er, 
Thou shalt rise to sleep no more; 
Partner of My purchased throne ! 
One in joy, in glory one. 

Bowdler. 



WHOM HAVE I IN HEAVEN BUT THEE ? " 



jjORD of earth ! Thy forming hand 
JjWell this beauteous frame hath planned: 
IWoods that wave, and hills that tower, 



Ocean rolling in his power,— 
All that strikes the gaze unsought, — 
All that charms the lonely thought, — 
Friendship, gem transcending price, — 
Love, a flower from Paradise : 
Yet, amidst this scene so fair, 
Should I cease Thy smile to share, 
What were all its joys to me ? 
Whom have I on earth but Thee ? 

Lord of heaven ! beyond our sight 
Rolls a world of purer light ; 
There, in love's unclouded reign, 
Parted hands shall clasp again ; 



MODERN : DECEASED WRITERS. 

Martyrs there, and prophets high, 
Blaze a glorious company ; 
While immortal music rings 
From unnumbered seraph-strings : 
Oh that world is passing fair; 
Yet if Thou wert absent there, 
What were all its joys to me ? 
Whom have I in heaven but Thee ? 

Lord of earth and heaven ! my breast 
Seeks in Thee its only rest : 
I was lost ; Thy accents mild 
Homeward lured Thy wandering child : 
I was blind ; Thy healing ray 
Charmed the long eclipse away : 
Source of every joy I know, 
Solace of my every woe, 
Oh if once Thy smile divine 
Ceased upon my soul to shine, 
What were earth or heaven to me ? 
Whom have I in each but Thee ? 

R. Grant. 



161 



11 



\6<Z THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



a HOSANNA IN THE HIGHEST." 



ROM Olivet's sequestered seats 

What sounds of transport spread ? 
What concourse moves through Salem's 
streets, 
To Sion's holy head ? 
Behold Him there in lowliest guise, 

The Saviour of mankind ! 
Triumphant shouts before Him rise, 

And shouts reply behind : 
And " Strike/' they cry, "your loudest string; 
He comes, — Hosanna to our King ! " 

Nor these alone, that present train, 

Their present King adored ; 
An earlier and a later strain 

Extol the self-same Lord. 
Obedient to His Father's will, 

He came, He lived, He died ; 
A.nd 'gratulating voices still, 

Before and after cried, 
" All hail the Prince of David's line! 
Hosanna to the Man divine ! " 



modern: deceased writers. 163 

He came to earth \ from eldest years, 

A long and bright array 
Of prophet-bards and patriarch-seers 

Proclaimed the glorious day : 
The light of heaven in every breast, 

Its fire on every lip, 
In tuneful chorus on they prest, 

A goodly fellowship : 
And still their pealing anthem ran, 
" Hosanna to the Son of Man ! " 



He came to earth, through life He past 

A man of griefs ; and lo, 
A noble army following fast 

His track of pain and woe : 
All deckM with palms, and strangely bright, 

That suffering host appears : 
And stainless are their robes of white, 

Though steepM in blood and tears ; 
And sweet their martyr-anthem flows, 
" Hosanna to the man of woes ! " 



From ages past descends the lay, 

To ages yet to be, 
Till far its echoes roll away 

Into eternity. 



11 



164 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

But oh ! while saints and angels high 

Thy final triumph share, 
Amidst Thy followers, Lord, shall I, 

Though last and meanest there, 
Receive a place, and feebly raise 
A faint hosanna to Thy praise? 

R. Grant. 



c 




TO KNOW THE LOVE OF CHRIST. 

■HE God of glory dwells on high, 
He rules the armies of the sky ; 
Ten thousand thousand round Him 
stand, 
Obedient to their King's command. 

The God of glory, moved by love, 
Descends in mercy from above ; 
And He, before whom angels bow, 
Is found a man of grief below. 

This love is great, too great for thought, 
Its length and breadth in vain are sought ; 
No tongue can tell its depth and height, 
The love of God is infinite. 



modern: deceased writers. 165 

But though His love no measure knows, 
The Saviour to His people shows 
Enough to give them joy, when known ; 
Enough to make their hearts His own. 

Constrained by this, they walk with Him, 
His love, their most delightful theme ; 
To glorify Him here, their aim ; 
Their hope, in heaven to praise His name. 

Kelly. 



U OU THAT I HAD WINGS LIKE A DOVE l" 

ZION ! when I think on thee, 



^#J 



I long for pinions like the dove, 



^fesg^l And mourn to think that I should be 



So distant from the place I love. 

A captive here, and far from home, 
For Zion's sacred walls I sigh : 

To Zion all the ransomed come, 
And see the Saviour eye to eye. 

While here, I walk on hostile ground , 
The few that I can call my friends 

Are, like myself, with fetters bound, 
And weariness our steps attends. 



1 66 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

But yet we shall behold the day 

When Zion's children shall return ; 

Our sorrows then shall flee away 5 
And we shall never^ never mourn. 

The hope that such a day will come, 

Makes even the captive's portion sweet ; 

Though now we wander far from home, 
In Zion soon we all shall meet. 

Kelly. 



THE THINGS THAT ARE NOT SEEN ARE 

ETERNAL." 

i HERE is a state unknown, unseen, 
Where parted souls must be ; 
And but a step may be between 
That world of souls and me. 

The friend I loved has thither fled, 

With whom I sojourn' d here : 
I see no sight, I hear no tread ; 

But may she not be here ? 

I see no light, I hear no sound, 

When midnight shades are spread ; 

Yet angels pitch their tents around, 
And guard my quiet bed. 




modern: deceased writers. 167 

The Saviour whom I long have sought, 

And would, but cannot see — 
And is He here ? O wondrous thought ! 

And will He dwell with me ? 

Give me to see Thee, and to feel 

The mental vision clear ; 
The things unseen reveal, reveal ! 

And let me know them near. 

The gathering clouds of sense dispel, 

That wrap my soul around ; 
In heavenly places make me dwell, 

While treading earthly ground. 

Illume this darkened soul of mine, 

That still in midnight lies * 
O let the light in darkness shine, 

And bid the Day-star rise ! 

Impart the faith that soars on high, 

Beyond this earthly strife, 
That holds sweet converse with the sky, 

And lives Eternal Life ! 

Jane Taylor. 



1 68 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



THAT I MAY WIN CHRIST, AND BE FOUND IN 
HIM." 



iVo 



OME, my fond fluttering heart. 

Come, struggle to be free, 
Thou and the world must part, 
However hard it be : 
My trembling spirit owns it just, 
But cleaves yet closer to the dust. 

Ye tempting sweets, forbear ; 

Ye dearest idols, fall ; 

My love ye must not share, 

Jesus shall have it all : 

; Tis bitter pain, 'tis cruel smart, 

But O ! thou must consent, my heart ! 

Ye fair enchanting throng ! 

Ye golden dreams, farewell ! 
Earth has prevailed too long, 
And now I break the spell : 
Ye cherishM joys of early years • — 
Jesus, forgive these parting tears ! 



modern: deceased writers. 169 

But must I part with all ? 

My heart still fondly pleads • 
Yes, — Dagon's self must fall, 
It beats, it throbs, it bleeds : 
Is there no balm in Gilead found, 
To soothe and heal the smarting wound ? 

O yes, there is a balm, 

A kind Physician there, 
My feverM mind to calm, 
To bid me not despair : 
Aid me, dear Saviour, set me free, 
And I will all resign to Thee. 

O may I feel thy worth, 
And let no idol dare, 
No vanity of earth, 

With Thee, my Lord, compare : 
Now bid all worldly joys depart, 
And reign supremely in my heart ! 

Jane Taylor. 



170 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



WITH GROANINGS THAT CANNOT BE UTTERED/ 



-^g^JLEAD Thou — oh plead my cause ! 

SmI Each self-excusing plea 

?%3jffll My trembling soul withdraws, 

And flies to Thee. 
Where Justice rears her throne, 
Ah ! who, save Thee alone, 
May stand, O spotless One? — 
Plead Thou my cause ! 

Ah ! plead not aught of mine 

Before Thine altar thrown : 
Fragments — when all is Thine — 

All — all Thine own ! 
Thou seest what stains they bear : 
Oh ! since each tear, each prayer, 
Hath need of pardon there, 

Plead Thou my cause ! 

With lips that, dying, breathed 

Blessings for words of scorn ; 
With brow where I had wreathed 

The piercing thorn : 



modern: deceased writers. 171 

With breast to whose pure tide 
He did the weapon guide. 
Who hath no home beside, 

Plead Thou my cause ! 



Plead — when the tempter's art, 

To each fond hope of mine, 
Denies this faithless heart 

Can e'er be Thine. 
If slander whisper, too, 
The sin I never knew, 
Thou, who could urge the true, 
Plead Thou my cause ! 

Oh ! plead my cause above : 

Plead Thine within my breast, 
Till there Thy peaceful Dove 

Shall build her nest. 
Thou know'st this will — how frail — 
Thou know'st— though language fail — 
My souPs mysterious tale : 

Plead Thou my cause ! 

S. M. IVaring. 



17-2 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 




OF THINE OWN HAVE WE GIVEN THEE ! n 

OW sweet shall be the incense of my 

prayer ! 
!Since He who bids me, gives the power to 
pray; 
I may draw near, and bring those spices rare, 
That spring not forth from my unfertile clay. 
Source of all perfect gifts ! — ah ! who shall lay 
Aught at Thy feet, save that by Thee bestowed ? 

Thine is the softening dew, the quickening ray, 
And Thine the right to reap where Thou hast 
strew'd. 

Forerunner to the purchased abode ! 

O shed Thou then upon me — e'en on me, 
Thy light to find, Thy strength to tread the road, 

To where the pure in heart shall dwell with 
Thee. 
Take all Thine own : — inspire, enkindle, raise, 
My thoughts, my tongue, my life to Thy immortal 



praise ! 



S. M. Waring. 



modern: deceased writers. 173 



THERE IS NO DISCHARGE IN THAT WAR. 




REAVES have their time to fall, 
And flowers to wither at the north-wind's 
breath, 
And stars to set, — but all, 
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death ! 

Day is for mortal care, 
Eve for glad tidings round the joyous hearth, 

Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of 
prayer, 
But all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth. 

The banquet hath its hour, 
Its feverish hour of mirth, and song, and wine ; 

There comes a day for grief's overwhelming 
power, 
A time for softer tears, — but all are thine ! 

Youth and the opening rose 
May look like things too glorious for decay, 

And smile at thee ! — but thou art not of those 
That wait the ripen'd bloom to seize their prey ! 



174 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Leaves have their time to fall, 
And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, 

And stars to set, — but all, 
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death. 

We know when moons shall wane ; 
When summer birds from far shall cross the sea. 

When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden 
grain,— 
But who shall teach us when to look for thee ! 

Is it when Spring's first gale 
Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie ? 

Is it when roses in our path grow pale ? 
They have one season, — all are ours to die ! 

Thou art where billows foam, 
Thou art where music melts upon the air ; 

Thou art around us in our peaceful home, 
And the world calls us forth, — and Thou art there ! 

Thou art where friend meets friend, 
Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest; 

Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend 
The skies, and swords beat down the princely 
crest. 



modern: deceased writers. 175 

Leaves have their time to fall, 
And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, 

And stars to set, — but all, 
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death. 

Hern an s. 



TO GIVE LIGHT TO THEM THAT SIT IN 
DARKNESS." 

LOVELY voices of the sky, 

That hymn'd the Saviour's birth ! 
Are ye not singing still on high, 
Ye that sang " Peace on Earth " ? 
To us yet speak the strains 

Wherewith, in days gone by, 
Ye bless' d the Syrian swains, 
O voices of the sky ! 

O clear and shining light, whose beams 

That hour heaven's glory shed 
Around the palms, and o'er the streams, 
And on the shepherds' head ; 
Be near, through life and death, 

As in that holiest night 
Of Hope, and Joy, and Faith, 
O clear and shining light ! 




I7<5 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

O Star which led to Him, whose love 
Brought down man's ransom free ; 
Where art thou ? — midst the hosts above 
May we still gaze on thee ? 
In heaven thou art not set, 

Thy rays earth might not dim, 
Send them to guide us yet ! 
O star which led to Him ! 

Hemans. 



EVEN THE WINDS AND SEA OBEY HIM. 

EAR was within the tossing bark, 
When stormy winds grew loud, 
ij And waves came rolling high and dark, 
And the tall mast was bow'd ; 

And men stood breathless in their dread, 

And baffled in their skill; 
But One was there, who rose and said 

To the wild sea, " Be still ! " 

And the wind ceased, — it ceased, — that word 
PassM through the gloomy sky ; 

The troubled billows knew their Lord, 
And sank beneath His eye. 




modern: deceased writers. 177 

And slumber settled on the deep, 

And silence on the blast ; 
As when the righteous falls asleep, 

When death's fierce throes are past. 

Thou that didst rule the angry hour, 
And tame the tempest's mood, — 

Oh ! send Thy Spirit forth in power, 
O'er our dark souls to brood ! 

Thou that didst bow the billows' pride 

Thy mandates to fulfil, — 
So speak to passion's raging tide; 

Speak, and say, " Peace, be still ! " 

Hemans. 



MY DAYS ARE LIKE A SHADOW THAT 
DECLINETH." 

3 HILD of the dust ! if e'er thine eye » 
Has watch' d the torrent's flow, 
Where, distant from its source on high, 
Tt sweeps the vale below, 
Then hast thou seen a silent force 

Pervade its current strong ; 
No sound, no ripple, marks its course, 
And yet it speeds along. 
12 




17** THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

'Tis noiseless thus, yet swift as thought, 

The stream of time rolls by; 
And thus, though man regards them not, 

His precious moments fly. 
A few brief days, in splendour bright, 

Yon glorious orb has shone ; 
Add next a few returns of night, 

And, lo ! a year is gone. 

Lord ! grant me grace these seasons fleet 

To Thee alone to spend ; 
That I with joy Thy face may meet, 

When life's short course shall end : 
And teach me on that Saviour's love 

To build my only trust, 
Who, though He fills a throne above, 

Was once allied to dust. 

Oh then, while days and years shall glide 

In silent speed away, 
My soul shall view the ebbing tide, 

But know no sad dismay ; 
For still my Saviour-God shall be 

At hand, though unperceived, 
And I salvation nearer see ' 

Than when I first believed. 

Hide. 



modern: deceased writers. 179 



" NON ANGLI SED ANGELI.' 



?! 




BRIGHT-hairM company of youthful 

slaves, 
Beautiful strangers, stand within the pale 
Of a sad market, ranged for public sale, 
Where Tiber's stream the immortal City laves : 
Angli by name ; and not an Angel waves 
His wing who could seem lovelier to man's eye 
Than they appear to holy Gregory ; 
Who, having learnt that name, salvation craves 
For them and for their land. The earnest Sire, 
His questions urging, feels, in slender ties 
Of chiming sound, commanding sympathies • 
De-irians— he would save them from God's Ire • 
Subjects of Saxon ./Ella — they shall sing 
Glad HALLE-lujahs to the eternal King ! 

Wordsworth. 

the vaudois. 



j^rjg^UT whence came they who for the Saviour 
Lord 
W Have long borne witness as the Scriptures 



teach ? — 
Ages ere Valdo raised his voice to preach 
In Gallic ears the unadulterate Word, 
12 * 



180 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Their fugitive progenitors explored 

Subalpine vales, in quest of safe retreats 
Where that pure Church survives, though sum- 
mer heats 
Open a passage to the Romish sword, 
Far as it dares to follow. Herbs self-sown, 
And fruitage gathered from the chestnut wood, 
Nourish the sufferers then; and mists, that brood 
O'er chasms with new-fallen obstacles bestrown, 
Protect them ; and the eternal snow that daunts 
Aliens, is God's good winter for their haunts. 

Wordsworth, 



PEACE I LEAVE WITH YOU/ 7 

)]OT seldom, clad in radiant vest, 
Deceitfully goes forth the morn ; 
Not seldom evening in the west 
Sinks smilingly forsworn. 

The smoothest seas will sometimes prove, 
To the confiding bark, untrue; 

And if she trusts the stars above, 
They can be treacherous too. 

The umbrageous oak, in pomp outspread, 
Full oft, when storms the welkin rend, 




modern: deceased writers. 181 

Draws lightnings down upon the head 
It promised to defend. 

But Thou art true, incarnate Lord ! 

Who didst vouchsafe for man to die ; 
Thy smile is sure, Thy plighted word 

No change can falsify ! 

I bent before Thy gracious throne, 

And askM for peace on suppliant knee; 

And peace was given, — nor peace alone, 
But faith, sublimed to ecstasy ! 

Wordsworth. 



BEHOLD, YOUR HOUSE IS LEFT UNTO YOU 
DESOLATE/" 

] ALLEN is thy throne, O Israel ! 
Silence is o'er thy plains ; 
Thy dwellings all lie desolate, 
Thy children weep in chains. 
Where are the dews that fed thee 

On Etham's barren shore ? 
That fire from heaven which led thee, 
Now lights thy path no more. 




l8z THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Lord ! Thou didst love Jerusalem, 

Once she was all Thy own ; 
Her love Thy fairest heritage, ♦ 

Her power Thy glory's throne : 
Till evil came and blighted 

Thy long-loved olive-tree ; 
And Salem's shrines were lighted 

For other gods than Thee ! 

Then sunk the star of Solyma; 

Then pass'd her glory's day ; 
Like heath that, in the wilderness, 

The wild wind whirls away. 
Silent and waste her bowers, 

Where once the mighty trod, 
And sunk those guilty towers, 

While Baal reign' d as God ! 

" Go," said the Lord, €€ ye conquerors ! 

Steep in her blood your swords, 
And rase to earth her battlements, 

For they are not the Lord's ! 
Till Sion's mournful daughter 

O'er kindred bones shall tread, 
And Hinnom's vale of slaughter 

Shall hide but half her dead ! * 

Moore. 




modern: deceased writers. 183 



EPHRAIM IS TURNED TO IDOLS; LET HIM 

ALONE \" 

}HEN Israel, of the Lord beloved, 

Out from the land of bondage came, 
i'Her fathers' God before her moved, 
An awful guide, in smoke and flame. 
By day, along the astonished lands 

The cloudy pillar glided slow ; 
By night, Arabia's crimsoned sands 
Returned the fiery column's glow. 

Then rose the choral hymn of praise, 

And trump and timbrel answered keen ; 
And Zion's daughters pour'd their lays, 

With priests' and warriors' voice between. 
No portents now our foes amaze ; 

Forsaken Israel wanders lone; 
Our fathers would not know Thy ways, 

And Thou hast left them to their own. 

Scott. 

the cities of the plain. 

HE wind blows chill across those gloomy 
waves, 
Oh! how unlike the green and dancing 
main ! 



184 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

The surge is foul, as if it rolPd o'er graves ; — 
Stranger, — here lie the cities of the plain ! 

Yes, on that plain, by wild waves cover' d now, 
Rose palace once, and sparkling pinnacle. 

On pomp and spectacle beam'd morning's glow, 
On pomp and festival the twilight fell. 

Lovely and splendid all, — but Sodom's soul 

Was stain' d with blood, and pride, and per- 
jury; 
Long warn'd, long spared, till her whole heart 
was foul, 
And fiery vengeance on its clouds came nigh ! 



And still she mock'd and danced, and taunting 
spoke 
Her sportive blasphemies against the Throne • 
It came ! the thunder on her slumber broke ; 
God spake the word of wrath ! Her dream was 
done. 

Yet, in her final night, amid her stood 

Immortal messenger, and pausing Heaven 

Pleaded with man, but she was quite imbued, 
Her last hour waned, she scorn'd to be forgiven. 



modern: deceased writers. 185 

'Twas done ! — down pour'd at once the sulphurous 
shower, 

Down stoop'd, inflame, the heaven's red canopy. 
Oh ! for the arm of God in that fierce hour ! — 

'Twas vain, nor help of God or man was nigh. 

They rush; they bound, they howl, the men of 
sin ; — 
Still stoop'd the cloud, still burst the thicker 
blaze ; 
The earthquake heaved ! — then sank the hideous 
din! 
Yon wave of darkness o'er their ashes strays. 

Croly, 



"it is finished/' 

jIS finished ! — every circumstance fulfill' d : 
The conflict o'er ; the sacrifice complete. 
So He laid down His life, and went to 
meet 
Death in his own domain : — not till He will'd, 
Yielding His breath ; self-offer'd, but not kill'd. 
That voice of power, it spoke of Hell's defeat ; 
It rent the veil before the mercy-seat ; 



^% 



J 86 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Through the dark regions of the dead it thrill' d : 
Earth trembled; and the solid rocks were rent; 

The Grave its Victor, its Invader, knew. 
No need of costly balms, with fond intent 

That which saw no corruption to imbue. 
Go, seal the stone, and all approach prevent.— 
He burst the bands of death, and Heaven's gate 
open threw. 

Conder. 



FEAR NOT ... I HAVE THE KEYS OF THE GRAVE 
AND OF DEATH." 

S|H, cling not, Trembler, to life's fragile 
bark : 
It fills — it soon must sink. 
Look not below, where all is chill and dark : 

'Tis agony to think 
Of that wild waste ; but look, oh ! look above, 
And see the outstretch'd arm of Love. 

Cling not to this poor life : unlock thy clasp 

Of fleeting, vapoury air. 
The world receding soon will mock thy grasp ; 

But let the wings of prayer 
Take the blest breeze of Heaven, and upward flee, 
And life from God shall enter thee. 




modern: deceased writers. 187 

Oh, fear not Him who walks the stormy wave : 
'Tis not a spectre, but the Lord. 

Trust thou in Him who overcame the grave, 
Who holds in captive ward 

The powers of Hell. Heed not the monster grim; 
Nor fear to go through death to Him. 

Look not so fondly back on this false Earth : 

Let hope not linger here. 
Say, would the worm forego its second birth. 

Or the transition fear, 
That gives it wings to try a world unknown, 
Although it wakes and mounts alone ? 

But thou art not alone : on either side 
The portal, friends stand guard : 
And the kind spirits wait thy course to guide. 

Why, why should it be hard, 
To trust our Maker with the soul He gave, 
Or Him who died that soul to save ? 

Into His hands commit thy trembling spirit, 

Who gave His life for thine. 
Guilty, fix all thy trust upon His merit : 

To Him thy heart resign. 

Oh, give Him love for love, and sweetly fall 

Into His hands who is thy All. 

Conder. 



THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



SEEING, THEN, THAT ALL THESE THINGS SHALL 
BE DISSOLVED." 



SK the bird that soars on high, 
Midway between earth and sky, 
What he sees, when he is there, 



Of the world's receding sphere? 

He could teach, if he might say, 
Heavenward as he bends his way, 
How the wide world lessens fast 
In the growing distance lost. 

Lesser objects lost to view, 
Great ones are but little now — 
All that once were bright and fair, 
Lose their tints and disappear. 

Doubt you, then, why they who rise 
Near and nearer to the skies, 
See on earth's diminished sphere, 
Little that is worth their care ? 



modern: deceased writers. 189 

Thev whose bosoms once could joy 
In the vain worlcPs vainest toy — 
They whose hearts could sometimes feel 
E'en the slightest touch of ill — 

From the world by sorrow riven, 
Gone already half to heaven — 
Look with calmness on a scene, 
Scarcely now within their ken. 

Deem not that the heart is chilPd, 
Which, though once with anguish filPd, 
Such emotions all forgot, 
Can smile and say, "It matters not." 

Caroline Fry* 



cc -, 



NEVERTHELESS, NOT AS I WILL, BUT AS THOL 
WILT." 



pSJJRACE does not steel the faithful 




heart, 
That it should know no ill \ 
We learn to kiss the chastening rod, 
And feel its sharpness still. 



I90 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

But how unlike the Christian's tears 
To those the world must shed ! 

His sighs are tranquil and resigned 
As the heart from which they sped. 

The saint may be compelPd to meet 
Misfortune' s saddest blow ; 

His bosom is alive to feel 
The keenest pang of woe : 

But, ever as the wound is given, 

There is a hand unseen, 
Hasting to wipe away the scar, 

And hide where it has been. 

The Christian would not have his lot 

Be other than it is ; 
For, while his Father rules the world, 

He knows that world is his. 

He knows that He who gave the best, 
Will give him all beside ; 

Assured each seeming good he asks 
Is evil, if denied. 

When clouds or sorrow gather round, 
His bosom owns no fear; 

He knows, where'er his portion be, 
His God will still be there. 



MODERN : DECEASED WRITERS. I91 

And when the threatened storm has burst, 

Whatever the trial be, 
Something yet whispers him within, 

" Be still, for it is He \'» 

Poor nature, ever weak, will shrink 

From the afflictive stroke ; 
But faith disclaims the hasty plaint 

Impatient nature spoke. 

His grateful bosom quickly learns 

Its sorrows to disown ; 
Yields to His pleasure, and forgets 

The choice was not his own. 

Caroline Fry. 



THOUGH HE SHOULD SLAY ME, YET WILL I 
TRUST IN HIM." 



AITH, like a simple, unsuspecting child, 

Serenely resting on its mother's arm, 
1 Reposing every care upon her God, 



Sleeps on His bosom, and expects no harm : 

Receives with joy the promises He makes, 
Nor questions of His purpose or His power; 



ig<Z THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

She does not doubting ask, " Can this be so ?" 
The Lord hath said it, and there needs no more. 

However deep be the mysterious word, 
However dark, she disbelieves it not ; 

Where Reason would examine, Faith obeys, 
And " It is written," answers every doubt. 

In vain, with rude and overwhelming force, 
Conscience repeats her tale of misery ; 

And powers infernal, wakeful to destroy, 
Urge the worn spirit to despair and die. 

As evening's pale and solitary star 

But brightens while the darkness gathers round, 
So Faith, unmoved amidst surrounding storms, 

Is fairest seen in darkness most profound. 

Caroline Fry. 



WHAT REWARD SHALL I GIVE UNTO THE 
LORD ? " 



ARK was my lot, and long it spurned 

The poor reliefs that man could give ; 
Till God my wayward spirit turned, 
And bade me see, believe, and live. 



modern: deceased writers. 



193 



Then flow'd my tears, then woke my tongue, 
And loud His grace to sinners sung. 

O what return can I bestow, 

Bestow, my God, on mighty Thee ! 

What can I give, that will not flow 
In tenfold blessings back on me ? 

How rich on earth Thy cup of love ! 

How richer still the fount above ! 

Be mine to own Thy gentle sway, 

To live, to die^ to Thee alone ; 
Whom should I love, and whom obey, 

But Him who made me twice His own ? 
Who formM me by His living breath? 
Who rescued me from sin and death ? 

Him will I praise ; heart, hand, and tongue, 
To Him shall daily offerings bring ; 

Fll dwell His ransom' d train among, 

The Lamb's high song with them to sing ; 

Till I shall join a brighter choir, 

And lend a theme to every lyre. 



13 



*94 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 




UNDER HIS WINGS SHALT THOU TRUST. 

>]HERE is a safe and secret place 
Beneath the wings divine, 
Reserved for all the heirs of grace ;- 
Oh be that refuge mine ! 

The least and feeblest there may bide 

Uninjured and unawed • 
While thousands fall on every side, 

He rests secure in God. 

The angels watch him on his way 

And aid with friendly arm : 
And Satan, roaring for his prey, 

May hate, but cannot harm. 

He feeds in pastures large and fair 

Of truth and love divine ; 
O child of God ! O glory's heir, 

How rich a lot is thine ! 

A hand almighty to defend, 
An ear for every call, 




modern: deceased writers. 195 

An honoured life, a peaceful end. 
And heaven to crown it all ! 

Lyte. 



THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD. 

j]LORIOUS Shepherd of the sheep, 
May I dare to call me Thine ? 
One whom Thou wilt tend and 
keep 
Safe beneath Thy wings divine ? 
Ah ! with Thee so kind and near, 
What have I to wish or fear ? 

Where the heavenly pastures grow, 
Where the living waters glide, 

Led and fed by Thee below, 
I have nought to ask beside ; 

Nought but thankfulness of heart 

To proclaim how good Thou art. 

Keep me in Thy righteous ways, 
Guide me with Thy holy wand, 

Through this life's perplexing maze, 
Through the vale of death beyond ; 

Gracious Thou, and happy I, 

With so great a Friend so nigh. 



196 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

In the desert then Pm fed, 

Manna round me rains from high, 

Holy oil anoints my head, 
And my cruse is never dry ; 

Then from grace I pass to grace, 

Soon to meet Thee face to face. 

Lyte. 

"QUICKEN THOU ME, ACCORDING TO THY 
WORD." 

3HEN at Thy footstool, Lord^ I bend, 
And plead with Thee for mercy 
there, 
Think of the sinner's dying Friend, 
And for His sake receive my prayer. 

O think not of my shame and guilt, 
My thousand stains of deepest dye : 

Think of the blood which Jesus spilt, 
And let that blood my pardon buy. 

Thinks Lord, how I am still Thy own, 
The trembling creature of Thy hand ; 

Think how my heart to sin is prone, 
And what temptations round me stand. 

O think upon Thy holy word, 

And every plighted promise there; 




modern: deceased writers. 197 

How prayer should evermore be heard. 
And how Thy glory is to spare. 

O think not of my doubts and fears, 
My strivings with Thy grace Divine : 

Think upon Jesus' woes and tears, 
And let His merits stand for mine. 

Thine eye, Thine ear, they are not dull, 
Thine arm can never shortened be ; 

Behold me here, my heart is full ! 
Behold, and spare, and succour me ! 

Lyte. 



ABIDE WITH US: FOR THE DAY IS FAR SPENT. 

fjBIDE with me ! Fast falls the eventide ; 
The darkness deepens : Lord, with me 
abide ! 

When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
Help of the helpless, O abide with me ! 

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ! 
Earth's joys grow dim ; its glories pass away : 
Change and decay in all around I see ; 
O Thou, who changest not, abide with me ! 




198 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word ; 
But as Thou dwelPst with Thy disciples, Lord, 
Familiar, condescending, patient, free, 
Come, not to sojourn, but abide with me ! 

Come not in terrors, as the King of kings ; 
But kind, and good, with healing in Thy wings : 
Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea : 
Come, Friend of sinners, and thus bide with me ! 

Thou on my head in early youth didst smile, 
And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile, 
Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee. 
On to the close, O Lord, abide with me ! 

I need Thy presence every passing hour : 
What but Thy grace can foil the Tempter's power T 
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be ? 
Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me ! 

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless ; 
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness : 
Where is death's sting ? where, grave, thy victory ? 
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me. 

Hold then Thy cross before my closing eyes ; 
Snine through the gloom, and point me to the 
skies : 




modern: deceased writers. 199 

Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain sha- 
dows flee : 
In life and death, O Lord, abide with me ! 

Lyte. 



AN HOUSE NOT MADE WITH HANDS, 
ETERNAL IN THE HEAVENS." 

j RIEND after friend departs ; 
Who hath not lost a friend ? 
There is no union here of hearts 
That finds not here an end : 
Were this frail world our final rest, 
Living or dying, none were blest. 

Beyond the flight of time, — 

Beyond the reign of death, — 

There surely is some blessed clime 

Where life is not a breath ; 
Nor life's affections transient fire, 
Whose sparks fly upwards and expire. 

There is a world above, 
Where parting is unknown; 
A long eternity of love, 

Form'd for the good alone ; 



200 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

And faith beholds the dying, here, 
Translated to that glorious sphere ! 

Thus star by star declines, 

Till all are past away, 
As morning high and higher shines, 

To pure and perfect day : 
Nor sink those stars in empty night, 
But hide themselves in heaven's own light. 

Montgomery. 



AND I SAW A GREAT WHITE THRONE/- 7 

PHE days and years of time are fled ; 
Sun, moon, and stars have shone their 
last; 
The earth and sea gave up their dead, 

Then vanished at the archangel's blast : 
All secret things have been reveaPd, 
Judgment is passM, the sentence seaPd, 
And man to all eternity 
What he is now henceforth must be. 

From Adam to his youngest heir, 
Not one escaped that muster-roll ; 






modern: deceased writers. 201 

Each, as if he alone were there, 

Stood up, and won or lost his soul : 
These from the Judge's presence go 
Down into everlasting woe; 
Vengeance hath barr'd the gates of hell, 
The scenes within no tongue can tell. 

But lo ! far off the righteous pass 

To glory from the King's right hand ; 

In silence, on the sea of glass, 

Heaven's numbers without number stand ; 

While He who bore the cross lays down 

His priestly robe and victor-crown ; 

The mediatorial reign complete, 

All things are put beneath His feet. 

Then every eye in Him shall see, 

(While thrones and powers before him fall,) 
The fulness of the Deity, 

Where God Himself is all in all : 
O how eternity shall ring 
With the first note the ransom'd sing ! 
While in the strain all voices blend, 
Which once begun shall never end. 

In that unutterable song, 

Shall I employ immortal breath ? 



202 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Or, with the wicked borne along, 

For ever die " the second death ? " 
Jesus ! my life, my light, Thou art ; 
Thy word is in my mouth, my heart : 
Lord, I believe, — my spirit save 
From sinking lower than the grave. 

Montgomery. 




BEHOLD ! HE PRAYETH ! " 



RAYER is the souPs sincere desire, 

Utter' d or unexpressed ; 
The motion of a hidden fire, 
That trembles in the breast. 

Prayer is the burden of a sigh, 

The falling of a tear ; 
The upward glancing of an eye, 

When none but God is near. 

Prayer is the simplest form of speech 

That infant lips can try ; 
Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach 

The Majesty on high. 



modern: deceased writers. 203 

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice, 

Returning from his ways ; 
While angels in their songs rejoice, 

And cry, " Behold he prays ! " 

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, 

The Christian's native air; 
His watch-word at the gates of death ; 

He enters heaven with prayer. 

The saints in prayer appear as one, 

In word, in deed, and mind, 
While with the Father and the Son 

Sweet fellowship they find. 

Nor prayer is made on earth alone ; 

The Holy Spirit pleads, 
And Jesus, on the eternal throne, 

For sinners intercedes. 

O Thou, by whom we come to God, 

The life, the truth, the way ! 
The path of prayer Thyself hast trod : 

Lord, teach us how to pray ! 

Montgomery. 




204 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



THOU COMPASSEST ME ON EVERY SIDE/ J 

GOD unseen, but not unknown, 
Thine eye is ever fiVd on me ; 
I dwell beneath Thy secret throne, 
Encompassed by Thy Deity. 

Throughout this universe of space 

To nothing am I long allied ; 
For flight of time, and change of place, 

My strongest, dearest bonds divide. 

Parents I had, but where are they ? 

Friends whom I knew, I know no more; 
Companions once that cheerM my way 

Have dropt behind or gone before. 

Now I am one amidst the crowd 
Of life and action hurrying round ; 

Now left alone, — for, like a cloud 

They came, they went, and are not found. 

Even from myself sometimes I part : 
Unconscious sleep is nightly death ; 

Yet surely by my couch Thou art, 

To prompt my pulse, inspire my breath. 



MODERN DECEASED WRITERS. 2 0" 

Of all that I have done or said, 

How little can I now recall ! 
Forgotten things to me are dead ; 

With Thee they live, Thou know^st them all. 

Thou hast been with me from the womb, 

Witness to ev*ry conflict here ; 
Nor wilt Thou leave me at the tomb, 

Before Thy bar I must appear. 

The moment comes, when strength must fail, 
When, health, and hope, and courage flown, 

I must go down into the vale 

And shade of death, with Thee alone. 

Alone with Thee ! — in that dread strife, 

Uphold me through mine agony, 
And gently be this dying life 

Exchanged for immortality. 

Then when the unbodied spirit lands 
Where flesh and blood have never trod, 

And in the unveiPd presence stands 
Of Thee, my Saviour, and my God ; 

Be mine eternal portion this, 

Since Thou wert always here with me, 

That I may view Thy face in bliss, 
And be for evermore with Thee. 

Montgoma-y. 




206 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



et THERE REMAINETH A REST." 

j|H ! where shall rest be found, 
Rest for the weary soul ? 
'Twere vain the ocean-depths to sound, 
Or pierce to either pole : 
The world can never give 
The bliss for which we sigh ; 
'Tis not the whole of life to live, 
Nor all of death to die. 

Beyond this vale of tears 

There is a life above, 
Unmeasured by the flight of years ; 

And all that life is love : — 

There is a death, whose pang 

Outlasts the fleeting breath ; 
Oh what eternal horrors hang 

Around " the second death ! " 

Lord God of truth and grace, 
Teach us that death to shun ; 
Lest we be banish' d from Thy face, 
And evermore undone : 



modern: deceased writers. 2c; 

Here would we end our quest; 

Alone are found in Thee, 
The life of perfect love, — the rest 

Of immortality. 

Montgomery. 



" AND HE WAS NOT: FOR GOD TOOK HIM. r 



ERVANT of God, well done ! 
Rest from thy loved employ ; 
The battle fought, the victory won, 



Enter thy Master's joy." 

— The voice at midnight came, 

He started up to hear ■ 
A mortal arrow pierced his frame, 

He fell, — but felt no fear. 

Tranquil amidst alarms, 
It found him on the field ; 

A veteran slumbering on his arms, 
Beneath his red-cross shield. 

His sword was in his hand, 
Still warm with recent fight, 

Ready that moment, at command, 
Through rock and steel to smite. 



208 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

It was a two-edged blade, 
Of heavenly temper, keen ; 
And double were the wounds it made, 
Where'er it glanced between : 

'Twas death to sin, — 'twas life 
To all who mourn' d for sin ; 
It kindled, and it silenced, strife, 
Made war, and peace, within. 

Oft with its fiery force 
His arm had quell'd the foe, 
And laid, resistless in his course, 
The alien armies low. 

Bent on such glorious toils, 
The world to him was loss ; 
Yet all his trophies, all his spoils, 
He hung upon the Cross. 

At midnight came the cry, 
" To meet thy God prepare ! " 
He woke, — and caught his Captain's eye; 
Then, strong in faith and prayer, 

His spirit, with a bound, 
Left its encumbering clay ; 
His tent, at sun-rise, on the ground, 
A darkened ruin lay. 



modern: deceased writers. 209 

The pains of death are past, 
Labour and sorrow cease; 
And, life's long warfare closed at last, 
His soul is found in peace. 

Soldier of Christ, well done ! 

Praise be thy new employ ; 

And while eternal ages run, 

Rest in thy Saviour's joy. 

Montgomery. 



LIKE A SHADOW THAT DEPARTETH. 



hi 



HIS shadow on the DiaPs face, 
That steals, from day to day, 
With slow, unseen, unceasing pace, 
Moments, and months, and years away ; 
This shadow which, in every clime, 

Since light and motion first began, 
Hath held its course sublime; — 

What is it? — mortal man ! 
It is the scythe of Time : 
— A shadow only to the eye ; 

Yet, in its calm career, 
It levels all beneath the sky; 

And still, through each succeeding year, 
14 



2IO THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Right onward, with resistless power, 

Its stroke shall darken every hour, 

Till Nature's race be run, 

And Time's last shadow shall eclipse the sun. 

Nor only o'er the Dial's face, 

This silent phantom, day by day, 
With slow, unseen, unceasing pace, 

Steals moments, months, and years away ; 
From hoary rock and aged tree, 

From proud Palmyra's mouldering walls, 
From Teneriffe, towering o'er the sea, 

From every blade of grass, it falls ; 
For still, where'er a shadow sweeps, 

The scythe of Time destroys, 
And man at every footstep weeps 

O'er evanescent joys ; 
Life's flowerets glittering with the dew of morn, 
Fair for a moment, then for ever shorn : 
— Ah ! soon, beneath the inevitable blow, 
I too shall lie, in dust and darkness low. 

Then Time, the conqueror, will suspend 

His scythe, a trophy, o'er my tomb, 
Whose moving shadow shall portend 
* Each frail beholder's doom : 




modern: deceased writers. an 

O'er the wide earth's illumined space. 

Though Time's triumphant flight be shown, — 

The truest index on its face 

Points from the churchyard- stone. 

Montgomery. 



LIKE RAIN UPON THE MOWN GRASS j AS 
SHOWERS THAT WATEB THE EARTH." 

flAIL to the Lord's Anointed ! 
Great David's greater Son ; 
Hail, in the time appointed, 
His reign on earth begun ! 
He comes to break oppression, 

To set the captive free, 
To take away transgression, 
And rule in equity. 

He comes with succour speedy 

To those who suffer wrong ; 
To help the poor and needy, 

And bid the weak be strong ; 
To give them songs for sighing, 

Their darkness turn to light ; 
Whose souls, condemn' d and dying, 

Were precious in His sight. 
14 * 



212 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

He shall come down like showers 

Upon the fruitful earth, 
And love, joy, hope, like flowers, 

Spring in His path to birth. 
Before Him, on the mountains, 

Shall Peace, the herald, go ; 
And Righteousness, in fountains, 

From hill to valley flow. 

Arabia's desert- ranger 

To Him shall bow the knee ; 
The Ethiopian stranger 

His glory come to see ; 
With offerings of devotion 

Ships from the isles shall meet, 
To pour the wealth of ocean 

In tribute at His feet. 

Kings shall fall down before Him 

And gold and incense bring ; 
All nations shall adore Him, 

His praise all people sing; 
For He shall have dominion 

O'er river, sea, and shore, 
Far as the eagle's pinion, 

Or dove's light wing, can soar. 



modern: deceased writers. 213 

For Him shall prayer unceasing. 

And daily vows ascend ; 
His kingdom still increasing, 

A kingdom without end : 
The mountain-dews shall nourish 

A seed, in weakness sown, 
Whose fruit shall spread and flourish, 

And shake like Lebanon. 

O'er every foe victorious 

He on his throne shall rest, 
From age to age more glorious, 

All blessing and all blest. 
The tide of time shall never 

His covenant remove : 
His Name shall stand for ever ; 

That Name to us is Love. 

Montgomery. 



IT WAS NOT POSSIBLE THAT HE SHOULD 
BE HOLDEN OF IT." 

^yOME, see the place where Jesus lies; 
The last sad rite is done ! 
With aching hearts and weeping eyes, 
The faithful few are gone. 




214 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

They washed with tears each bloody trace, 
On those dear limbs that lay ■ 

Then spread the napkin o'er His face, 
And turn'd and went their way. 

By the seaPd stone with grounded spears 

The guards their vigil keep ; 
They wist not other eyes than theirs 

Watch o'er the Saviour's sleep. 

All Heaven above, all Hell beneath, — 
Bright hope, and blank dismay, — 

Look on, to see if grisly Death 
Can hold his mighty prey. 

Now, grisly Death, thy powers combine ! 

Now gird thee to the strife ! 
Yet needs there stronger arm than thine 

To keep the Lord of Life. 

'Tis done ! O Death, thy Victor-guest 
Hath smoothed thy visage grim ! 

O Grave, thou blessed place of rest 
To all who sleep in Him ! 

Hankinson. 



MODERN: DECEASED WRITERS. 215 




HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP. 
PSALM CXXVII. 2. 

*|F all the thoughts of God that are 
Borne inward unto souls afar, 
Along the Psalmist's music deep, 
Now, tell me if that any is, 
For gift or grace, surpassing this — 
" He giveth His beloved, sleep?" 

What do we give to our beloved ? — 
The hero's heart, to be unmoved, 

The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep, 
The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse, 
The monarch's crown, to light the brows ? 

" He giveth His beloved, sleep ! " 

What do we give to our beloved ? — 
A. little faith all undisproved, 

A little dust to overweep, 
And better memories to make 
The whole earth blasted for our sake : 

" He giveth His beloved, sleep ! " 



2l6 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

" Sleep soft, beloved!" we sometimes say, 
But have no tune to charm away 

Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep. 
But never doleful dream again 
Shall break the happy slumber when 

" He giveth His beloved, sleep." 

O earth, so full of dreary noises ! 
O men, with wailing in your voices ! 
O delved gold, the wailers heap ! 

strife, O curse, that o'er it fall ! 
God strikes a silence through it all, 

And giveth His beloved, sleep. 

His dews drop mutely on the hill ; 
His cloud above it saileth still ; 

Though on its slope men sow and reap : 
More softly than the dew is shed, 
Or cloud is floated overhead, 

a He giveth His beloved, sleep." 

Ay, men may wonder while they scan 
A living, thinking, feeling man 

Confirmed in such a rest to keep ; 
But angels say, and through the word 

1 think their happy smile is heard, 

" He giveth His beloved, sleep." 



MODERN: DECEASED WRITERS. 2L' 

For me, my heart, that erst did go, 
Most like a tired child at a show, 

That sees through tears the mummers leap, 
Would now its wearied vision close, 
Would childlike on His love repose 

Who giveth His beloved, sleep. 

And friends, dear friends, when it shall be 
That this low breath is gone from me, 

And round my bier ye come to weep, 
Let one, most loving of you all, 
Say, "Not a tear must o'er her fall, 

" He giveth His beloved, sleep." 

E. B. Browning. 

THE LOOK. 



HE Saviour look'd on Peter. Ay, no 

word, 
No gesture of reproach ! the Heavens 
serene 
Though heavy with arm'd justice, did not lean 
Their thunders that way : the forsaken Lord 
Look'd only on the traitor : None record 
What that look was, none guess ; for those who 

have seen 
Wrong' d lovers loving through a death-pang 
keen, 



21 8 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Or pale-cheek' d martyrs smiling to a sword, 
Have miss'd Jehovah at the judgment-call. 
And. Peter, from the height of blasphemy, 
" I never knew this man/' — did quail and fall, 
As knowing straight that God ; and turned free 
And went out speechless from the face of all, 
And fllPd the silence, weeping bitterly. 



THE MEANING. 

I think that look of Christ might seem to say — 

" Thou, Peter, art thou then a common stone 

Which I at last must break my heart upon, 

For God's charge to His high angels may 

Guard my foot better ? Did I yesterday 

Wash thy feet, my belov'd, that they should run 

Quick to deny me 'neath the morning sun ? 

And do thy kisses, like the rest, betray ? 

The cock crows coldly. Go and manifest 

A late contrition, but no bootless fear ! 

For when thy final need is dreariest, 

Thou shalt not be denied, as I am here ; 

My voice, to God and angels, shall attest, 

( Because I know this man, let him be clear.'" 

E. B. Browning. 



modern: deceased writers. 219 



cowper's grave. 




^var^ 



T is a place where poets crowned may feel 

the heart's decaying ; 
It is a place where happy saints may weep 
amid their praying : 
Yet let the grief and humbleness, as low as silence, 

languish : 
Earth surely now may give her calm to whom she 
gave her anguish. 



O poets, from a maniac's tongue was pour'd the 

deathless singing : 
O Christians, at your cross of hope a hopeless hand 

was clinging : 
O men, this man in brotherhood your weary paths 

beguiling, 
GroanM inly while he taught you peace, and died 

while you were smiling ! 

And now, what time ye all may read through dim- 
ming tears his story, 

How discord on the music fell, and darkness on 
the glory : 



220 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

And how, when, one by one, sweet sounds and 
wandering lights departed, 

He wore no less a loving face, because so broken- 
hearted. 

He shall be strong to sanctify the poefs high 

vocation, 
And bow the meekest Christian down in meeker 

adoration • 
Nor ever shall he be, in praise, by wise or good 

forsaken, 
Named softly as the household name of one whom 

God hath taken. 

With quiet sadness, and no gloom, I learn to think 

upon him ; 
With meekness that is gratefulness to God whose 

heaven hath won him, 
Who suffered once the madness-cloud to His own 

love to blind him, 
But gently led the blind along where breath and 

bird could find him; 

And wrought within his shattered brain such quick 

poetic senses, 
As hills have language for, and stars, harmonious 

influences ; 



MODERN i DECEASED WRITERS. 221 

The pulse of dew upon the grass, kept his within its 

number, 
And silent shadows from the trees, refreshed him 

like a slumber. 

Wild hares were drawn from woods and glades, to 
share his home caresses, 

Uplooking to his human eyes with sylvan tender- 
nesses : 

The very world, by God's constraint, from false- 
hood's ways removing, 

Its women and its men became, beside him, true 
and loving. 

And though, in blindness, he remained uncon- 
scious of the guiding, 

And things provided came without the sweet sense 
of providing, 

He testified this solemn truth, while frenzv-desolated 

— Nor man nor nature satisfy, whom only God 
created. 

Like a sick child, that knoweth not his mother 

while she blesses, 
And drops upon his burning brow the coolness of 

her kisses, — 



222 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

That turns his fever' d eyes around, cc My mother ! 

whereas my mother ? *' 
As if such tender words and deeds could come from 

any other ; — 

The fever gone, with leaps of heart, he sees her 

bending o'er him, 
Her face all pale with watchful love, — the unweary 

love she bore him ! 
Thus, woke the poet from the dream his life's long 

fever gave him, 
Beneath those deep pathetic Eyes which closed in 

death to save him. 

Thus ? — oh not thus I no type of earth can image 

that awaking 
Wherein he scarcely heard the chant, of seraphs 

round him breaking; 
Or felt the new immortal throb of soul from body 

parted, 
But felt those Eyes alone, and knew, " My Saviour ! 

not deserted ! " 

Deserted ! Who hath dreamt that when the cross in 
darkness rested 

Upon the Victim's hidden face, no love was mani- 
fested ? 



MODERN : DECEASED WRITERS. 223 

What frantic hands outstretched have e'er the 

atoning drops averted ? 
What tears have wash'd them from the soul, that 

one should be deserted ? 

Deserted ! God could separate from His own es- 
sence rather ; 

And Adam's sins have swept between the righteous 
Son and Father : 

Yea, once, Immanuel's orphan' d cry His universe 
hath shaken, — 

It went up single, echoless, " My God, I am for- 
saken !" 

It went up from the Holy's lips, amid His lost cre- 
ation, 

That, of the lost, no son should use those words of 
desolation ! 

That earth's worst frenzies, marring hope, should 
mar not hope's fruition, 

And I, on Cowper's grave, should see his rapture 
in a vision. 

E. B. Browning. 



224 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 




FOR YOUR SAKES HE BECAME POOR; THAT YE 
THROUGH HIS POVERTY MIGHT BE RICH." 

HEN this passing world is done, 
When has sunk yon glaring sun, 
When we stand with Christ in glory, 

Looking o'er life's finished story, 

Then, Lord, shall I fully know — 

Not till then — how much I owe. 

When I hear the wicked call 
On the rocks and hills to fall, 
When I see them start and shrink 
On the fiery deluge-brink, 
Then, Lord, shall I fully know — 
Not till then — how much I owe. 

When I stand before the throne, 
Dress'd in beauty not my own, 
When I see Thee as Thou art, 
Love Thee with unsinning heart, 
Then, Lord, shall I fully know — 
Not till then — how much I owe. 



MODERN : DECEASED WRITERS. 22^ 

When the praise of heaven I hear, 
Loud as thunder to the ear, 
Loud as many waters' noise, 
Sweet as harp's melodious voice, 
Then, Lord, shall I fully know — 
Not till then — how much I owe. 

Even on earth, as through a glass, 
Darkly, let Thy glory pass, 
Make forgiveness feel so sweet, 
Make Thy Spirit's help so meet; 
Even on earth, Lord, make me know 
Something of how much I owe. 

Chosen, not for good in me ; 
Waken' d up from wrath to flee ; 
Hidden in the Saviour's side, 
By thy Spirit sanctified; 
Teach me, Lord, on earth to show, 
By my love, how much I owe. 

Oft T walk beneath the cloud, 

Dark as midnight's gloomv shroud ; 

But when fear is at the height, 

Jesus comes, and all is light : 

Blessed Jesus, bid me show T 

Doubting saints how much I owe. 
15 



226 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

When in flowery paths I tread 

Oft by sin Pm captive led; 

Oft I fall, but still arise, — 

The Spirit ! comes, the Tempter flies : 

Blessed Spirit ! bid me show 

Weary sinners all I owe. 

Oft the nights of sorrow reign — 
Weeping, sickness, sighing, pain • 
But a night Thine anger burns, 
Morning comes and joy returns : 
God of comfort, bid me show 
To Thy poor how much I owe. 

Mc Cheyne. 



FIFTH PART. 

MODERN : LIVING AND ANONYMOUS WRITERS. 



FIFTH PART. 



O WRETCHED MAN THAT I AM, WHO SHALL 
DELIVER ME FROM THE BODY OF THIS DEATH ? 




OORD, many times I am a-weary quite 
Of mine own self, my sin, my vanity : 
Yet be not Thou, or I am lost outright, 
Weary of me ! 



And hate against myself I often bear, 

And enter with myself in fierce debate : 
Take Thou my part against myself, nor share 
In that just hate. 

Best friends might loathe us, if what things perverse 

We know of our own selves, they also knew : 
Lord, Holy One ! if Thou, who know'st worse, 
Shouldst loathe us too ! 

Trench. 



^3° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 




I KNOW BOTH HOW TO BE ABASED AND I 
KNOW HOW TO ABOUND." 

EOME murmur, when their sky is 
clear 

oK^Sl And wholly bright to view, 
If one small speck of dark appear 

In their great heaven of blue. 
And some with thankful love are filPd 

If but one streak of light, 
One ray of God*s good mercy, gild 
The darkness of their night. 

In palaces are hearts that ask, 

In discontent and pride, 
Why life is such a dreary task, 

And all good things denied ? 
And hearts in poorest huts admire 

How love has to their aid, — 
Love that not ever seems to tire, — 

Such rich provision made. 

Trench, 



modern: living writers. 231 



" THAT YE SORROW NOT, EVEN AS OTHERS, 
WHICH HAVE NO HOPE/ 5 




IpROTHER, thou art gone before us, 
M And thv saintlv soul is flown 
W Where tears are wiped from every 
eye, 
And sorrow is unknown : 
From the burthen of the flesh, 

And from care and fear released, 
Where the wicked cease from troubling, 
And the weary are at rest. 

The toilsome way thou'st travelld o'er, 

And borne the heavy load, 
But Christ hath taught thy languid feet 

To reach His blest abode. 
Thou'rt sleeping now, like Lazarus 

Upon his father's breast, 
Where the wicked cease from troubling, 

And the weary are at rest. 

Sin can never taint thee now, 

Nor doubt thy faith assail, 
Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ 

And the Holy Spirit fail. 



232 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

And there thou'rt sure to meet the good, 
Whom on earth thou lovedst best, 

Where the wicked cease from troubling, 
And the weary are at rest. 

" Earth to earth/' and " Dust to dust/* 

The solemn priest hath said, 
So we lay the turf above thee now, 

And we seal thy narrow bed : 
But thy spirit, brother, soars away 

Among the faithful blest, 
Where the wicked cease from troubling, 

And the weary are at rest. 

And when the Lord shall summon us, 

Whom thou hast left behind, 
May we, untainted by the world, 

As sure a welcome find ; 
May each, like thee, depart in peace, 

To be a glorious guest, 
Where the wicked cease from troubling, 

And the weary are at rest. 

Milman. 



modern: living writers. ^33 




HIS COMPASSIONS FAIL NOT : THEY ARE NEW 
EVERY MORNING." 

TUES of the rich unfolding morn, 
That, ere the glorious sun be born, 
By some soft touch invisible 
Around his path are taught to swell ; — 

Thou rustling breeze so fresh and gay, 
That dancest forth at opening day, 
And brushing by with joyous wing, 
Wakenest each little leaf to sing; — 

Ye fragrant clouds of dewy steam, 
By which deep grove and tangled stream 
Pay, for soft rains in season given, 
Their tribute to the genial heaven ; — 

Why waste your treasures of delight 
Upon our thankless, joyless sight; 
Who day by day to sin awake, 
Seldom of heaven and you partake ? 

Oh ! timely happy, timely wise, 
Hearts that with rising morn arise ! 



234 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Eyes that the beam celestial view, 
Which ever more makes all things new ! 

New every morning is the love 
Our wakening and uprising prove ; 
Through sleep and darkness safely brought, 
Restored to life, and power, and thought. 

New mercies, each returning day, 

Hover around us while we pray ; 

New perils past, new sins forgiven, 

New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven. 

As, for some dear^ familiar strain 
Untired we ask, and ask again ; 
Ever^ in its melodious store, 
Finding a spell unheard before ; 

Such is the bliss of souls serene, 

When they have sworn, and steadfast mean, 

Counting the cost, in all to espy 

Their God, in all themselves deny. 

Oh could we learn that sacrifice, 
What lights would all around us rise ! 
How would our hearts with wisdom talk 
Along life's dullest, dreariest walk ! 



modern: living writers. 235 

The trivial round, the common task, 
Would furnish all we ought to ask; 
Room to deny ourselves ; a road 
To bring us, daily, nearer God. 

Seek we no more ; content with these, 
Let present rapture, comfort, ease, 
As Heaven shall bid them, come and go : — 
The secret this of rest below. 

Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love 
Fit us for perfect rest above ; 
And help us, this and every day, 
To live more nearly as we pray ! 

Keble. 



abide with us, for it is toward evening, 
and the day is far spent." 

HIS gone, that bright and orbed blaze, 
Fast fading from our wistful gaze : 
Yon mantling cloud has hid from 
sight 
The last faint pulse of quivering light. 

In darkness and in weariness 

The traveller on his way must press, 




2$6 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

No gleam to watch on tree or tower, 
Wiling away the lonesome hour. 

Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear, 
It is not night if Thou be near; 
Oh ! may no earth-born cloud arise 
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes ! 

When round Thy wondrous works below 
My searching rapturous glance I throw, 
Tracing out wisdom, power, and love, 
In earth or sky, in stream or grove ; 

Or, by the light Thy words disclose, 
Watch Time's full river as it flows, 
Scanning Thy precious Providence, 
Where not too deep for mortal sense ; — 

When with dear friends sweet talk I hold 
And all the flowers of life unfold ; 
Let not mv heart within me burn, 
Except in all I Thee discern. 

When the soft dews of kindly sleep 
My wearied eyelids gently steep, 
Be my last thought, how sweet to rest 
For ever on my Saviours breast ! 



modern: living writers. 237 

Abide with me from morn till eve, 
For without Thee I cannot live : 
Abide with me when night is nigh, 
For without Thee I dare not die ! 

Thou Framer of the light and dark, 
Steer through the tempest Thine own ark : 
Amid the howling wintry sea 
We are in port if we have Thee. 

If some poor wandering child of Thine 
Have spurn'd, to-day, the voice divine, — 
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin • — 
Let him no more lie down in sin. 

Watch by the sick, enrich the poor 
With blessings from Thy boundless store : 
Be every mourners sleep to-night, 
Like infant's slumbers, pure and light. 

Come near and bless us when we wake, 
Ere through the world our way we take : 
Till, in the ocean of Thy love, 
We lose ourselves in heaven above. 

Keble. 




238 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



SLEEPING, BETWEEN TWO SOLDIERS, BOUND 
WITH TWO CHAINS." 

HOU thrice denied, yet thrice beloved, 
Watch by Thine own forgiven friend ; 
In sharpest perils faithful proved, 
Let his soul love Thee to the end. 

The prayer is heard — else why so deep 

His slumber on the eve of death ? 
And wherefore smiles he in his sleep 

As one who drew celestial breath ? 

He loves and is beloved again — 
Can his soul choose but be at rest ? 

Sorrow hath fled away, and pain 
Dares not invade the guarded nest. 

He dearly loves, and not alone : 

For his wingM thoughts are soaring high 

Where never yet frail heart was known 
To breathe in vain affection' s sigh. 

He loves and weeps — but more than tears 
Have seaPd Thy welcome and his love — 

One look lives in him, and endears 
Crosses and wrongs where'er he rove : 



MODERN : LIVING WRITERS. 239 

That gracious chiding look. Thy call 
To win him to himself and Thee, 

Sweetening the sorrow of his fall, 
Which else were rued too bitterly. 

Even through the veil of sleep it shines, 
The memory of that kindly glance ; — 

The Angel watching by, divines 

And spares awhile his blissful trance. 

His dream is changed — the Tyrant's voice 
Calls to that last of glorious deeds— 

But as he rises to rejoice, 

Not Herod but an Angel leads. 

He dreams he sees a lamp flash bright, 
Glancing around his prison-room — 

But 'tis a gleam of heavenly light 
That fills up all the ample gloom. 

The flame, that in a few short years 

Deep through the chambers of the dead 

Shall pierce, and dry the fount of tears, 
Is waving o'er his dungeon-bed. 

Touch' d he upstarts — his chains unbind — 
Through darksome vault, up massy stair, 



24O THE BOOK OF SACRED SOXG. 

His dizzy, doubting footsteps wind 
To freedom and cool moonlight air. 

Then all himself, all joy and calm, 
Though for a while his hand forego, 

Just as it touchM, the martyr's palm, 
He turns him to his task below : 

The pastoral staff, the keys of heaven, 
To wield awhile in grey-hairM might, 

Then from his cross to spring forgiven 
And follow Jesus out of sight. 

Keble. 



PETER SEETH THE DISCIPLE WHOM JESUS 
LOVED." 




^jjORD, and what shall this man do ? " 
||f|/| Ask'st thou, Christian, for thy 
m friend ? 
If his love for Christ be true, 

Christ hath told thee of his end : 
This is he whom God approves, 
This is he whom Jesus loves. 



modern: living writers. 24T 

Ask not of him more than this, 

Leave it in his Saviour's breast, 
Whether, early calPd to bliss, 

He in youth shall find his rest, 
Or armed in his station wait, 
Till his Lord be at the gate : 

Whether in his lonely course 

(Lonely, not forlorn) he stay, 
Or with love's supporting force 

Cheat the toil and cheer the way : 
Leave it all in His high hand, 
Who doth hearts as streams command. 

Gales from heaven, if so He will, 

Sweeter melodies can wake 
In the lonely mountain rill, 

Than the meeting waters make : 
Who hath the Father and the Son, — 
May be left, but not alone. 

Sick or healthful, slave or free, 
Wealthy, or despised and poor — 

What is that to him or thee, 
So his love to Christ endure ? 

When the shore is won at last, 

Who will count the billows past ? 
16 



242 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Only, since our souls will shrink 
At the touch of natural grief, 

When our earthly loved ones sink, 
Lend us, Lord, Thy sure relief; 

Patient hearts, their pain to see, 

And Thy grace, to follow Thee. 



Kelle. 




A SOUND, AS OF A RUSHING MIGHTY WIND. 

\ HEN God of old came down from 
heaven, 
In power and wrath He came; 
Before His feet the clouds were riven, 
Half darkness and half flame : 

Around the trembling mountain's base 

The prostrate people lay ; 
A day of wrath, and not of grace ; 

A dim and dreadful day. 

But when He came the second time, 

He came in power and love; 
Softer than gale at morning prime 

HoverM His holy Dove. 



MODERN : LIVING WRITERS. 243 

The fires, that rush'd on Sinai down, 

In sudden torrents dread, 
Now gently light, a glorious crown, 

On every sainted head. 

Like arrows went those lightnings forth, 
WingM with the sinner's doom : 

But these, like tongues, o'er all the earth, 
Proclaiming life to come. 

And, as on Israel's awe- struck ear 

The voice exceeding loud, 
The trump, that Angels quake to hear, 

ThiilPd from the deep dark cloud ; 

So, when the Spirit of our God 

Came down His flock to find, 
A voice from heaven was heard abroad, 

A rushing, mighty wind. 

Nor doth the outward ear alone 

At that high warning start ■ 
Conscience gives back the appalling tone, 

'Tis echo'd in the heart. 

It fills the Church of God ; it fills 

The sinful world around ; 
Only in stubborn hearts and wills 

No place for it is found. 
16 * 



244 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

To other strains our souls are set : 

A giddy world of sin 
Fills ear and brain, and will not let 

Heaven's harmonies come in. 

Come, Lord ! come, Wisdom, Love, and Power ; 

Open our ears to hear; 

Let us not miss the accepted hour ; 

Save, Lord, by love or fear ! 

Keble. 



AND HE, CASTING AWAY HIS MANTLE, CAME 
TO JESUS." 

UST as I am, without one plea, 
But that Thy blood was shed for me, 
And that Thou bidd'st me come to Thee, 
O Lamb of God, I come ! 

Just as I am, and waiting not 
To rid my soul of one dark blot, 
To Thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, 
O Lamb of God, I come ! 

Just as I am, though toss'd about 
With many a conflict, many a doubt, 
Fightings and fears within, without, 
O Lamb of God, I come ! 




modern: deceased writers. 245 

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind, 
Sight, riches, healing of the mind, 
Yea, all I need, in Thee to find, 
O Lamb of God, I come ! 

Just as I am, Thou wilt receive, 
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve ! 
Because Thy promise I believe, 
O Lamb of God, I come ! 

Just as I am, Thy love unknown 
Has broken every barrier down, 
Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone, 
O Lamb of God, I come ! 

Just as I am, of that free love, 
The breadth, length, depth, and height to prove, 
Here for a season, then above, 
O Lamb of God, I come ! 

Charlotte Elliott. 



THE SABBATH WAS MADE FOR MAN/ 

DAY of rest and gladness, 

O day of joy and light, 
O balm of care and sadness, 
Most beautiful, most bright; 




u5 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

On thee, the high and lowly, 
Bending before the Throne, 

Sing, Holy, Holy, Holy, 
To the Great Three in One. 

On thee, at the creation, 

The light first had its birth ; 
On thee for our salvation 

Christ rose from depths of earth ; 
On thee, our Lord victorious 

The Spirit sent from heaven, 
And thus on thee, most glorious, 

A triple Light was given. 

Thou art a port protected 

From storms that round us rise; 
A garden intersected 

With streams of Paradise ; 
Thou art a cooling fountain 

In lifers dry, dreary sand ; 
From thee, our Pisgah mountain, 

We view the Promised Land. 

Thou art a holy ladder, 

Where angels go and come ; 

Each Sunday finds us gladder, 
Nearer to heaven our home. 



MODERN t LIVING WRITERS. -47 

A day of sweet refection, 

Thou art a day of love ; 
A day of resurrection 

From earth to things above. 

To-day on weary nations 

The heavenly manna falls \ 
To holy convocations 

The silver trumpet calls^ 
Where gospel light is glowing 

With pure and radiant beams^ 
And living water flowing 

With soul-refreshing streams. 

New graces ever gaining 

From this our day of fest, 
We reach the Rest remaining 

To spirits of the blest : 
To Holy Ghost be praises, 

To Father and to Son ; 
The Church her voice upraises 

To Thee, blest Three in One. 

Christopher Wordsworth. 




248 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



'EVEN SO COME, LORD JESUS." 



]ESUS, Thy Church with longing eyes 
For Thy expected coming waits ; 
When will the promised light arise, 
And glory beam from Zion's gates? 

Ev'n now, when tempests round us fall, 
And wintry clouds overcast the sky, 

Thy words with pleasure we recall, 

And deem that our redemption's nigh. 

Come, gracious Lord, our hearts renew, 
Our foes repel, our wrongs redress, 

Man's rooted enmity subdue, 

And crown Thy Gospel with success. 

O come, and reign o'er every land ; 

Let Satan from his throne be hurPd ; 
All nations bow to Thy command, 

And grace revive a dying world ! 

Yes, Thou wilt speedily appear ! 

The smitten earth already reels ; 
And not far off we seem to hear 

The thunder of Thv chariot-wheels. 




MODERN : LIVING WRITERS. 249 

Teach us in watchfulness and prayer 
To wait for the appointed hour ; 

And fit us by Thy grace to share 

The triumphs of Thy conquering power. 

Bat hurst. 

" HE HATH BEEN DEAD FOUR DAYS !" 

i]HEN Lazarus left his charnel-cave, 
And home to Mary's house returned, 
Was this demanded, — if he yearnM 
To hear her weeping by his grave ? 

" Where wert thou, brother, those four days ? " 

There lives no record of reply, 

Which telling what it is to die, 
Had surely added praise to praise. 

From every house the neighbours met, 
The streets were fillM with joyful sound; 
A solemn gladness even crown' d 

The purple brows of Olivet. 

Behold a man raised up by Christ ! 

The rest remaineth unreveaPd ; 

He told it not ; or something seaPd 

The lips of that Evangelist. 

Tennyson. 



250 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 




LAZARUS WAS ONE OF THEM THAT SAT AT THE 
TABLE WITH HIM." 

1ER eyes are homes of silent prayer, 
Nor other thought her mind admits, 
But, — a he was dead and there he sits, 
And He that brought him back is there." 

Then one deep love doth supersede 
All other, when her ardent gaze 
Roves from the living brother's face, 

And rests upon the Life indeed. 

All other thought, all curious fears, 
Borne down by gladness so complete, 
She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet 

With costly spikenard and with tears. 

Thrice blest whose lives are faithful prayers, 
Whose loves in higher love endure ; 
What souls possess themselves so pure, 

Or is there blessedness like theirs ? 

Tennyson, 




modern: living writers. 251 



"thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me. 

'jY Father and my God, 
O set this spirit free ! 
Td gladly kiss the rod 
That drove my trembling soul to Thee, 
And made it Thine eternally. 

Sweet were the bitterest smart, 
That; with the bended knee, 

Would bow this broken heart; 
For who, my Saviour, who could be 
A sufferer long, that flies to Thee ? 

The tears we shed for sin, 
When Heaven alone can see, 

Leave truer peace within 
Than worldly smiles — which cannot be 
Lit up, my God, with smiles from Thee. 

Then give me any lot, 

I'll bless Thy just decree, 
So Thou art not forgot, 
And I may ne'er dependent be 
On any friend, my God, but Thee ! 

MonselL 




2^2 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



3IRDS have their quiet nest, 
Foxes their holes, and man his peaceful 
bed ; 

All creatures have their rest, — 
But Jesus had not where to lay His head. 

Winds have their hour of calm, 
And waves to slumber on the voiceless deep ; 

Eve has its breath of balm, 
To hush all scenes and sounds to sleep. 

The wild deer hath its lair, 
The homeward flocks the shelter of their shed ; 

All have their rest from care, — 
But Jesus had not where to lay His head. 

And yet He came to give 
The weary, heavy-laden, rest, 

To bid the sinner live, 
And soothe our griefs to slumber on His breast. 

What then, am I, my God, 
Permitted thus the path of peace to tread ; 

Peace purchased by the blood 
Of Him who had not where to lay His head ? 



modern: living writers. 253 

I, who once made Him grieve, 
I, who once bid His gentle spirit mourn, 

Whose hand essayed to weave, 
For His meek brow, the cruel crown of thorn, — 

Oh why should I have peace, 
Why, but for that unchanged, undying love, 

Which could not rest nor cease, 
Until it made me heir of joys above ? 

Yes, but for pardoning grace, 
I feel I never should in glory see 

The brightness of that face, 
That once was pale and agonized for me. 

Let the birds seek their nest, 
Foxes their holes, and men their peaceful bed ; 

Come, Saviour, on my breast, 
Deign to repose Thy oft-rejected head. 

Come, give me rest, and take 
The only rest on earth Thou lov'st; within 

A heart that, for Thy sake 5 
Lies bleeding, broken, penitent for sin. 

MonselL 



254 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 




'AND WHERE I AM ; THERE SHALL MY SERVANTS 
BE." 

I&IOON and for ever, — such promise our 
trust, 
Tho' ashes to ashes, and dust unto dust ; 
Soon and for ever, — our union shall be 
Made perfect, our glorious Redeemer, in Thee. 
When the sins and the sorrows of time shall be o'er, 
Its pangs and its partings remembered no more ; 
Where life cannot fail, and where death cannot 

sever, 
Christians with Christ shall be, soon and for ever. 

Soon and for ever, — the breaking of day 

Shall drive all the night-clouds of sorrow away; 

Soon and for ever, — we'll see as we're seen, 

And learn the deep meaning of things that have 

been. 
When fightings without us and fears from within, 
Shall weary no more in the warfare of sin ; 
Where tears and where fears and where death 

shall be never, 
Christians with Christ shall be, soon and for ever. 



modern: living writers. 255 

Soon and for ever, — the work shall be done, 
The warfare accomplished, the victory won : 
Soon and for ever, — the soldier lays down 
His sword for a harp, and his cross for a crown : 
Then droop not in sorrow, despond not in fear, 
A glorious to-morrow is brightening and near; 
When, blessed reward for each faithful endeavour ! 
Christians with Christ shall be, soon and for ever. 

Monsell. 



HE THAT DWELLETH IN LOVE, DWELLETH IN 
GOD, AND GOD IN HIM." 

O love, where love is shown to me, 

With smile a smile to greet — 
Where tempers, tastes, and thoughts agree, 
In friendship's bonds to meet — 

To light at others' torch the flame, 

And burn, one common fire — 
To list the chord, and strike the same 

On a responsive wire — 

This were not hard, 'twere but to own 

The force of nature's might, 
Who ever wakes a kindred tone, 

Where harmonies unite. 




^56 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

But for the living torch to burn. 
Though all around be chill — 

Where kindly acts meet no return, 
To feed love's fervours still — 



To keep the heart in tune, despite 

A war of jarring sounds — 
Still to preserve the affections right, 

And love, where hate abounds — 

This, this is hard, for nature spurns 

To render good for ill, 
And hot the angry spirit burns, 

Harsh rules the ungovernM will 

'Tis grace alone can mould the heart 

This gentle power to prove — 
'Tis grace alone can grace impart, 

And teach the soul to love. 

O Thou, who art the Source and Spring 

Of our new nature's birth, 
Love brought Thee down, that Thou might'st 
bring 

Love to this wretched earth. 



modern: living writers. 257 

Light Thou my torch by Thine own flame ; 

So shall it ever glow, 
A light to mark from whence it came, 

Through all the fogs below. 

Light Thou my torch, a living sign, 

While through this world I rove, 
A child of love, a child of Thine — 

For Thou, my God, art Love ! 

Lairohe. 



THE SOUTH WIND BLEW, AND WE CAME TO 
PUTEOLI." 



AIR sea ! whose lines of rolling wave 

Flash back the gladsome day, 
l\ And seem, as the broad beach they lave, 
In murmurs soft to say, 
Is there a wanderer on my breast ? — 
Pll bear him gently to his rest, 
And soothe his cares away ; 
Here where sweet flowers of thousand hues 
The welcome of their balm diffuse/ 
17 



258 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Not thus, — not thus thine accents broke 

On PauPs awakenM ear, 
When hoarse thy boiling waters spoke, 

And mockM the seaman's fear ! 
Thrice rose the sun, yet flung his light 
Idly upon that triple night, 

Wrought by thy wrestlings drear ; 
Whilst on thy fickle breast of foam, 
Man found nor refuge nor a home ! 

Rude sea ! hadst thou no sealed charge, 

That fearful crew to spare, 
To mark, when sank the fragile barge, 

Thy Lord's beloved there ? 
Yea, though thou foam above, below, 
Thy bounds are set — thus far may'st go, 

Farther thou may'st not dare : 
In vain thy billows course their way — 
Saved are the souls ! Disgorge thy prey ! 

And yet, methinks, when Paul once more 
Sought thy rude waves to greet, 

The rippling waters coursed the shore, 
To kiss his sainted feet — 



modern: living writers. 259 

But he nor trusted thee, nor feared ; 
Not at thy pleasure safe he steer'd, 

Or 'gainst thy scowlings beat : 
He knew Jehovah ruled, as slaves, 
Thy myriad host of wanton waves. 

for a faith ! the faith of Paul, — 
To rise above things seen ; 

To cease to feel and mourn that all 

Are not as might have been : 
That ocean, air, the land, the fire, 
Might aye celestial thoughts inspire, 

And from earth's pleasures wean — 
Then all I think, or hear, or see, 
Were token from my God to me. 

And thou, fair sea ! — for be thy form, 

As spread before my sight, 
Or heaved and froth' d abroad by storm, 

Or gemm'd with twinklings bright — 

1 love thee for thy Maker's sake, 

And hail the thoughts thy waves awake, 

Thoughts clothed in mystic might, 
That He, who rules in heaven above, 
Loves me, His child, — for He is Love, 
17 * 



260 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

One hour upon this lonely shore. 

Where Paul before me trod, 
Hath lent me wings in hope to soar, 

And commune with my God : 
Oh would this freshening southern breeze, 
That murmurs gently through the trees, 

And spreads their scents abroad, 
Bear hither, as my longings rise, 
The loaded gales of Paradise ! 

What is Life's course, by day and night, 

But an unstable sea, 
Now wrestling in malicious might, 

Now froth' d in sportive glee — 
Why should I heed its restless wiles, 
Its heaving wrath, or twinkling smiles. 

Its frowns or revelry ? — 
I heed nor blame — it has its hour — 
The tool of an Almighty power. 

O give me grace, my gracious King, 
To take, as from Thine hand 

The woes its boisterous tempests bring, 
The comforts of its strand — 

Then every breeze shall echo, ' Come/ 

And every billow waft me home, 
To Canaan's blissful land ; 



modern: living writers. 261 



Where rolling thunders cease to roar, 
And the tossM soul rests evermore ! 



Latrole. 



HORA NOVISSIMA. 



^H|AR down the ages now, 

K)|| Her journey well-nigh done, 

1111 The pilgrim Church pursues her way, 



In haste to reach the crown. 

The story of the past 
Comes up before her view ; 
How well it seems to suit her still, 
Old, and yet ever new. 

'Tis the same story still 
Of sin and weariness, — 
Of grace and love still flowing down 
To pardon and to bless. 

'Tis the old sorrow still, 
The brier and the thorn ; 
And 'tis the same old solace yet, — 
The hope of coming morn. 



l6l THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

No wider is the gate, 
No broader is the way, 
No smoother is the ancient path 
That leads to light and day. 

No lighter is the load 
Beneath whose weight we cry, 
No tamer grows the rebel flesh, 
No less our enemy. 

No sweeter is the cup, 
Nor less our lot of ill ; 
'Twas tribulation ages since, 
*Tis tribulation still. 

No greener are the rocks, 

No fresher flow the rills, 

No roses in the wilds appear, 

No vines upon the hills. 

Still dark the sky above, 
And sharp the desert air ; 
*Tis wide, bleak desolation round, 
And shadow everywhere. 

Dawn lingers on yon cliff; 
But, oh, how slow to spring ! 



modern: living writers. 263 

Morning still nestles on yon wave. 
Afraid to try its wing. 

No slacker grows the fight, 
No feebler is the foe, 
No less the need of armour tried, 
Of shield and spear and bow : 

Nor less we feel the blank 
Of earth's still absent King ; 
Whose presence is of all our bliss 
The everlasting spring. 

Thus onward still we press, 
Through evil and through good, 
Through pain and poverty and want, 
Through peril and through blood. 

Still faithful to our God, 
And to our Captain true ; 
We follow where He leads the way, 
The kingdom in our view. 

Bonar. 



264 



THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 




SHEW ME THF WAY, O LORD, TEACH ME THY 
PATH." 

HY way, not mine, Lord, 

However dark it be ! * 
Lead me by Thine own hand, 
Choose out the path for me. 

Smooth let it be or rough, 

It will be still the best ; 
Winding or straight, it matters not, 

It leads me to Thy rest. 

I dare not choose my lot ; 

I would not, if I might ; 
Choose Thou for me, my God, 

So shall I walk aright. 

The kingdom that I seek 

Is Thine; so let the way 
That leads to it be Thine ; 

Else I must surely stray. 

Take Thou my cup, and it 
With joy or sorrow fill, 



modern: living writers. 265 

As best to Thee may seem; 

Choose Thou my good and ill : 

Choose Thou for me my friends, 

My sickness or my health ; 
Choose Thou my cares for me, 

My poverty or wealth. 

Not mine, not mine the choice, 

In things or great or small ; 
Be Thou my guide, my strength, 

My wisdom, and my all. 

Bonar. 



COME UNTO ME, ALL YE THAT LABOUR AND 
ARE HEAVY LADEN. " 

HEARD the voice of Jesus say, . 

" Come unto me and rest ; 
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down, 
Thy head upon my breast." 
I came to Jesus as I was, 

Weary, and worn, and sad ; 

I found in Him a resting-place, 

And He has made me glad. 




l66 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

I heard the voice of Jesus say, 

"Behold, I freely give 
The living water, thirsty one, 

Stoop down and drink and live." 
I came to Jesus, and I drank 

Of that life-giving stream ; 
My thirst was quench' d, ray soul revived, 

And now I live in Him. 

I heard the voice of Jesus say, 

" I am this dark world's light; 
Look unto me, thy morn shall rise 

And all thy day be bright." 
I lookM to Jesus, and I found 

In him my Star, my Sun, 
And in that light of life Til walk 

Till travelling days are done. 

Bojiar. 



THE MEETING PLACE. 

HERE the faded flower shall freshen,- 

Freshen never more to fade ; 
Where the shaded sky shall brighten,- 
Brighten never more to shade : 




modern: living writers. 267 

here the sun- blaze never scorches ; 

Where the star-beams cease to chill; 
Where no tempest stirs the echoes 

Of the wood or wave or hill : 
Where the morn shall wake in gladness, 

And the noon the joy prolong • 
Where the daylight dies in fragrance, 

'Mid the burst of holy song :— - 
Brother, we shall meet and rest 
'Mid the holy and the blest. 

Where no shadow shall bewilder; 

Where life's vain parade is o'er ; 
Where the sleep of sin is broken, 

And the dreamer dreams no more ; 
Where the bond is never sever' d ; — 

Partings, claspings, sob and moan, 
Midnight waking, twilight weeping, 

Heavy noontide — all are done : 
Where the child has found its mother, 

Where the mother finds the child, 
Where dear families are gather'd 

That were scatter' d on the wild : — 
Brother, we shall meet and rest 
'Mid the holy and the blest. 



268 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Where the hidden wound is healed, 

Where the blighted life re-blooms, 
Where the smitten heart the freshness 

Of its buoyant youth resumes : 
Where the love that here we lavish 

On the withering leaves of time, 
Shall have fadeless flowers to fix on, 

In an ever spring-bright clime : 
Where we find the joy of loving 

As we never loved before, 
Loving on, unchilPd, unhindered, 

Loving once and evermore : — 

Brother, we shall meet and rest 
'Mid the holy and the blest. 

Where a blasted world shall brighten 

Underneath a bluer sphere, 
And a softer, gentler sunshine 

Shed its healing splendour here ; 
Where earth's barren vales shall blossom, 

Putting on their robe of green, 
And a purer, fairer Eden, 

Be where only wastes have been : 
Where a King in kingly glory, 

Such as earth has never known, 




modern: living writers. 269 

Shall assume the righteous sceptre, 
Claim and wear the holy crown : — 

Brethren, we shall meet and rest 
'Mid the holy and the blest. 

Bonar. 



' HOW LONG, O LORD \" 

Y God, it is not fretfulness 

That makes me say u How long ? ' 
It is not heaviness of heart 
That hinders me in song ; 
'Tis not despair of truth and right, 
Nor coward dread of wrong. 

But how can I, with such a hope 

Of glory and of home ; 
With such a joy before my eyes, 

Not wish the time were come, — 
Of years the jubilee, — of days 

The sabbath and the sum ? 

These years, what ages they have been ! 

This life, how long it seems ! 
And how can I, in evil days, 

'Mid unknown hills and streams, 



27° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

But sigh for those of home and heart, 
And visit them in dreams ? 

Yet, peace, my heart, and hush, my tongue; 

Be calm, my troubled breast ; 
Each restless hour is hastening on 

The everlasting rest; 
Thou knowest that th? time thy God 

Appoints for thee, is best. 

Let faith, not fear nor fretfulness, 

Awake the cry — " How long ?" 
Let not faint-heartedness of soul 

Damp thy aspiring song : 
Right comes ; truth dawns ; the night departs 

Of error and of wrong. 

Bonar. 



u HE IS NOT ASHAMED TO CALL THEM 

BRETHREN." 

ES, for me, for me, He careth, 

With a brother's tender care ; 
Yes, with me, with me, He shareth, 
Every burden, every fear. 




MODERN : LIVING WRITERS. 

Yes, o'er me, o'er me, He watcheth, 
Ceaseless watcheth, night and day • 

Yes, even me, even me, He snatcheth 
From the perils of the way. 

Yes, for me He standeth pleading 

At the mercy- seat above ; 
Ever for me interceding, 

Constant in untiring love. 

Yes, in me abroad He sheddeth 
Joys unearthly, — love and light; 

And to cover me He spreadeth 
His paternal wing of might. 

Yes, in me, in me, He dwelleth, — 

I in Him, and He in me ; 
And my empty soul he filleth, 

Here, and through eternity. 

Thus I wait for His returning, 
Singing all the way to heaven ; 

Such the joyful song of mornings 
Such the tranquil hymn of even. 



271 



Bonar 



272 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



A BETTER COUNTRY • THAT IS, AN HEAVENLY/ 



h 



OR thee, O dear, dear country ! 

Mine eyes their vigils keep, 
For very love, beholding 
Thy happy name they weep. 
The mention of thy glory 

Is unction to the breast ; 
Is medicine in sickness, 

And love, and life, and rest. 

Brief life is here our portion ; 

Brief sorrow ; short-lived care ; 
The life that knows no ending, — 

The tearless life, is there ! 
O happy retribution ! 

Short toil, eternal rest ; 
For mortals and for sinners 

A mansion with the blest ! 
That we should look, poor wanderers, 

To have our home on high ! 
That worms should seek for dwellings 

Beyond the starry sky ! 

Oh ! one and only mansion ! 
O Paradise of joy ! 



MODERN : LIVING WRITERS. 273 

Where tears are ever banished, 

And smiles have no alloy. 
Jerusalem the golden. 

With milk and honey blest, 
Beneath thy contemplation 

Sink heart and voice oppressed : 
I know not, O I know not^ 

What social joys are there ! 
What radiancy of glory, 

What light beyond compare ! 
And when I fain would sing them, 

My spirit falls and faints, 
And vainly would it image 

The assembly of the saints. 
They stand, those halls of Sion, 

Conjubilant with song, 
And bright with many an angel, 

And all the martyr-throng : 
The Prince is ever in them ; 

The day-light is serene : 
The pastures of the Blessed 

Are deckM in glorious sheen. 

There is the throne of David, 

And there, from care released, 
The shout of them that triumph, 

The song of them that feast ; 
is 



274 



THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

And they who, with their Leader, 
Have conquered in the fight, 

For ever and for ever 

Are clad in robes of white. 

Jerusalem the glorious, 

The joy of the elect, 
O dear and future vision, 

That eager hearts expect ! 
Even now by faith I see thee, 

Even here thy walls discern, 
For thee my thoughts are kindled, 

And strive and pant and yearn. 
Jerusalem, the only 

That look' st from heaven below, 
In thee is all my glory, 

In me is all my woe. 
And though my body may not, 

My spirit seeks thee fain, 
Till flesh and earth return me 

To earth and flesh again. 

O none can tell thy bulwarks, 
How gloriously they rise : 

O none can tell thy capitals 
Of beautiful device. 



MODERN : LIVING WRITERS. 2] 5 

O fields that know no sorrow ! 
O state that fears no strife ! 

princely bowers ! O land of flowers ! 

realm and home of life ! 

Jerusalem, exulting, 
On that securest shore, 

1 hope thee, wish thee, sing thee, 
And love thee ever more ! 

I ask not, for my merit ; 

1 seek not to deny 
My merit is destruction, 

A child of wrath am I. 
Yet grace, sweet grace celestial, 

Shall all its love display, 
And David's royal Fountain 

Purge every sin away. 

Exult, O dust and ashes, 

The Lord shall be thy part : 
His only, His for ever, 

Thou shalt be, and thou art. 

Neale [from the Latin). 



18* 



276 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 




EVENING HYMN OF THE GREEKS. 

[HE day is past and over; 

All thanks, O Lord, to Thee ! 
I pray Thee that offenceless 
The hours of dark may be. 
O Jesu, keep me in Thy sight, 
And save me through the coming night ! 

The toils of day are over : 

I raise the hymn to Thee ; 
And ask that free from peril 
The hours of dark may be. 
O Jesu, keep me in Thy sight, 
And guard me through the coming night ! 

Lighten mine eyes, O Saviour, 

Or sleep in death shall I • 
And he, my wakeful Tempter, 
Triumphantly shall cry : 
" He could not make their darkness light, 
Nor guard them through the hours of night!' 



modern: living writers. 277 

Be Thou my souPs preserver, 

O God, for Thou dost know 
How many are the perils 

Through which I have to go : 
Lover of men ! O hear my call, — 
And guard and save me from them all ! 

Neale {from Analolins). 



IT IS I : BE NOT AFRAID. 



IERCE was the wild billow; dark was 

the night ; 
IJ Oars laboured heavily; foam glimmered 
white ; 
Trembled the mariners ; peril was nigh ; 
Then said the Son of God, " Peace ! it is I \" 

Ridge of the mountain-wave, lower thy crest ! 
Wail of Euroclydon, be thou at rest ! 
Peril can never be, — sorrow must fly, — 
Where saith the Light of Light, €C Peace! it is I \" 

Jesus, deliverer ! come Thou to me : 
Soothe Thou my voyaging over Life's sea ' 



27** THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Thou, when the storm of Death roars, sweeping 

by, 

Whisper, O Truth of Truth ! " Peace ! it is I ! " 
Neale [from Anatolius). 



COME UNTO ME, ALL YE THAT LABOUR AND 
ARE HEAVY LADEN." 

gS^HRT thou weary ? art thou languid ? 

^^^^ Art thou sore distrest ? 

BBagi "Come to Me," saith One, "and 



coming, 

Be at rest!" 

Hath He marks to lead me to Him, 

If He be my Guide ? 
" In His feet and hands are wound-prints, 

And His side." 

Is there diadem, as monarch, 

That His brow adorns ? 
" Yea, a crown in very surety, 

But of thorns ! " 

If I find Him, if I follow, 

What His guerdon here ? 
" Many a sorrow, many a labour, 

Many a tear." 



modern: living writers. 279 

If I still hold closely to Him, 

What hath He at last ? 
" Sorrow vanquished, labour ended, 

Jordan past f ,J 

If I ask Him to receive me, 

Will He say me nay ? 
" Not till earth, and not till heaven 

Pass away V* 

Tending, following, keeping, struggling, 

Is He sure to bless ? 
" Angels, martyrs, prophets, pilgrims, 

Answer, Yes." 

Neale [from Stephen of Saba) . 



THE SPIRIT AND THE BRIDE SAY, COME. 

7|WEET is the Spirits strain 

Breathed by soft pleadings inly 
heard, 
By all the heart's deep fountains stirr'd ; 

By conscience, and the written Word ; — 
Come, wanderers, home again ! 




280 THE BOOK OF SACRED SCKG. 

The Bride repeats the call ; 
By high thanksgiving, lowly prayer, 
By days of rest, and fostering care, 
By holy rites, that all may share ; 

She whispers, Come ! to all 



Let him who hears say, Come ! 
If thou hast been sin's wretched slave ; 
If thou art risen from that grave ; 
Thy sleeping brethren seek to save, 

And call the wanderers home. 



And let all come, who thirst ! 
Freely for every child of woe 
The streams of living waters flow ; 
And whosoever will, may go 

Where healing fountains burst. 



There drink and be at rest ; 
On Him who died for thee, believe ; 
The Spirit's quickening grace receive; 
No more the God who seeks thee, grieve; 

Be holy, and be blest ! 

Anstice. 



mm 



modern: living writers. *z8i 



•' THAT WHERE I AM, YE MAY BE ALSO. 

HOU art gone up on high 

To realms above the skies. 
And round Thy throne unceasingly 
The songs of praise arise. 
But we are lingering here 
With sin and care oppressed ; 
Lord ! send Thy promised Comforter, 
And lead us to Thy rest ! 

Thou art gone up on high : 

But Thou didst first come down, 
Through earth's most bitter misery 

To pass unto Thy crown : 

And girt with griefs and fears 

Our onward course must be ; 
But only let that path of tears 

Lead us, at last, to Thee ! 

Thou art gone up on high : 
But Thou shalt come again 
With all the bright ones of the sky 
Attendant in Thy train. 



282 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Lord ! by Thy saving power 
So make us live and die, 
That we may stand, in that dread hour, 
A.t Thy right hand on high. 

J. D. Burns. 




" DESPISE NOT THE CHASTENING OF THE LORD, 
NOR FAINT WHEN THOU ART REBUKED OF HIM." 

THOU, whose tender feet have trod 

The thorny path of woe, 
Forbid that I should slight the rod, 
Or faint beneath the blow. 
My spirit to its chastening stroke 

I meekly would resign ; 
Nor murmur at the heaviest yoke 

That tells me I am Thine. 
Give me the spirit of Thy trust, 

To suffer as a son, — 
To say, though lying in the dust, 
My Father's will be done ! 

I know that trial works for ends 
Too high for sense to trace; 



MODERN : LIVING WRITERS. 



283 



That oft in dark attire, He sends 

Some embassy of grace. 
May none depart till I have gainM 

The blessing which it bears, 
And learn, though late, I entertained 

An angel unawares. 
So shall I bless the hour that sent 

The mercy of the rod, 
And build an altar by the tent 

Where I have met with God. 

J. D. Burns, 



MY TIMES ARE IN THY HANDS. 

RATHER, I know that all my life 

Is portioned out for me, 
Sf And the changes that are sure to come 
I do not fear to see ; 
But I ask Thee for a present mind, 
Intent on pleasing Thee. 

I ask Thee for a thoughtful love, 

Through constant watching wise, 
To meet the glad with joyful smiles 

And wipe the weeping eyes ; 




284 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

And a heart at leisure from itself, 
To soothe and sympathize. 

I would not have the restless will 

That hurries to and fro ; 
Seeking for some great thing to do, 

Or secret thing to know ; 
I would be treated as a child, 

And guided where I go. 

Wherever in the world I am, 

In whatsoever estate, 
I have a fellowship with hearts 

To keep and cultivate, 
And a work of lowly love to do 

For the Lord on whom I wait. 

So I ask Thee for the daily strength 

To none that ask denied, 
And a mind to blend with outward life, 

While keeping at Thy side ; 
Content to fill a little space, 

If Thou be glorified. 

And if some things I do not ask 

In my cup of blessing be, 
I would have my spirit fillM the more 

With grateful love to Thee; 



modern: living writers. -285 

More careful, not to serve Thee much, 
But to please Thee perfectly. 

There are briars besetting every path 

That call for patient care; 
There is a cross in every lot, 

And an earnest need for prayer ; 
But a lowly heart, that leans on Thee, 

Is happy anywhere. 

In a service which Thy will appoints 

There are no bonds for me ; 
For my inmost heart is taught the truth 

That makes Thy children free; 
And a life of self-renouncing love 

Is a life of liberty. 

Anna L. Waring, 



" THERE WAS LEANING ON JESUS* BOSOM ONE 
OF HIS DISCIPLES." 

yORD, a happy child of Thine, 

Patient through the love of Thee, 
In the light, the life divine, 
Lives and walks at liberty. 




286 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Leaning on Thy tender care, 
Thou hast led my soul aright; 

Fervent was my morning prayer, 
Joyful is my song to-night. 

O my Saviour, Guardian true, 
All my life is Thine to keep 

At Thy feet my work I do ; 
In Thy arms I fall asleep. 

Tender mercies ! on my way 
Falling softly like the dew, 

Sent me freshly every day, 
I will bless the Lord for you. 

Though I have not all I would, 
Though to greater bliss I go, 

Every present gift of good 
To Eternal Love I owe. 

Source of all that comforts me, 
Well of joy for which I long, 

Let the song I sing to Thee 
Be an everlasting song. 

Anna L. Waring. 



modern: living writers. 287 




HE LEADETH ME BESIDE THE STILL WATERS. 

"N heavenly love abiding, 

No change my heart shall fear; 
And safe is such confiding, 
For nothing changes here. 
The storm may roar without me, 

My heart may low be laid ; 
But God is round about me, 
And can I be dismayM ? 

Wherever He may guide me, 

No want shall turn me back, 
My Shepherd is beside me, 

And nothing can I lack : 
His wisdom ever waketh ; 

His sight is never dim ; 
He knows the way He taketh, 

And I will walk with Him. 

Green pastures are before me, 

Which yet I have not seen ; 
Bright skies will soon be o'er me, 

Where the dark clouds have been 



288 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

My hope I cannot measure ; 

My path to life is free ; 
My Saviour is my treasure, 

And He will walk with me. 

Anna A. Waring. 



THE LORD IS THE PORTION OF MY INHERIT- 
ANCE/" 



HOUGH some good things of lower 
worth 
My heart is calPd on to resign, 



Of all the gifts in heaven and earth, 

The best, the very best is mine : 
The love of God in Christ made known, 
The love that is enough alone, 
My Father's love is all my own. 

My souPs Restorer, let me learn 

In that deep love to live and rest ; 
Let me the precious things discern, 
Of which I am indeed possessed. 
My treasure let me feel and see, 
And let my moments, as they flee, 
Unfold my endless life in Thee. 



modern: living writers. 289 

Let me Thy power, Thy beauty see, 

So shall my vain aspirings cease. 
And my freed heart shall follow Thee, 

Through paths of everlasting peace; 
My strength Thv gift, my life Thy care, 
I shall forget to seek elsewhere 
The joy to which my soul is heir. 

Anna L. Waring. 



"THERE SHALL IX NO WISE ENTER INTO IT 
ANYTHING THAT DEFILETH." 



^c^t? HE roseate hues of early dawn, 
The brightness of the dav, 



^-<o^ I The crimson of the sunset sky, 

How fast they fade away ! 
Oh for the pearly gates of heaven ! 

Oh for the golden floor ! 
Oh for the Sun of Righteousness, 



That setteth nevermore ! 

The highest hopes we cherish here, 

How fast thev tire and faint ! 
How many a spot denies the robe 
, That wraps an earthly saint ! 
19 



290 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Oh for a heart that never sins ! 

Oh for a soul washM white ! 
Oh for a voice to praise our King, 

Nor weary day or night ! 

Here faith is ours, and heavenly hope, 

And grace to lead us higher ; 
But there are perfectness and peace 

Beyond our best desire. 
Oh ! by Thy love and anguish, Lord ! 

Oh ! by Thy life laid down ! 
Oh ! that we fall not from Thy grace, 

Nor cast away our crown ! 

Cecil Frances Alexander. 



PEACE ON EARTH ; GOODWILL TOWARDS MEN. 

IT came upon the midnight clear, 
That glorious song of old, 
From angels bending near the earth 
To touch their harps of gold : 
" Peace to the earth, goodwill to man, 
From heaven's all gracious King;" 
The world in solemn stillness lay 
To hear the angels sing. 




modern: living writers. 291 

Still through the cloven skies they come, 

With peaceful wings unfurPd ; 
And still their heavenly music floats 

O'er all the weary world : 
Above its sad and lowly plains 

They bend on heavenly wicg, 
And ever o'er its Babel-sounds 

The blessed angels sing. 

Yet with the woes of sin and strife 

The world has suffered long ; 
Beneath the angel- strain have rolPd 

Two thousand years of wrong ; 
And men, at war with men, hear not 

The love- song which they bring ; — 
Oh ! hush the noise, ye men of strife, 

And hear the angels sing ! 

And ye, beneath life's crushing load 

Whose forms are bending low, 
Who toil along the climbing way 

With painful step and slow • 
Look now ! for glad and golden hours 

Come swiftly on the wing, 
Oh ! rest beside the weary road, 

And hear the angels sing ! 
19* 



292 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

For lo ! the days are hastening on, 

By prophet-bards foretold, 
When with the ever-circling years 

Comes round the age of gold ; 
When Peace shall over all the earth 

Its ancient splendours fling, 
And the whole world send back the song 

Which now the angels sing. 

Sears. 



MARY MAGDALENE. 

] HY for thy Lord dost thou thus weep and 
mourn, 
Like one half broken-hearted and forlorn ? 
No need for Him that thou should'st mourn and 

weep, 
No need with tears an empty shroud to steep. 

He, whom thou seekest in the murky tomb, 
Hath sprung bright and victorious from the gloom ; 
He lives, He greatly lives for evermore • 
See ! wide the rocks ope the sepulchral door. 

Why bring^st thou myrrh and spices, offerings meet 
For livid corpses in their winding-sheet? 




modern: living writers. 293 

His body blooms with immortality. 

Meet to return to His paternal sky. 

Thy tears proclaim the greatness of thy love, 
Xor doth thy Lord thy flowing tears reproye ; 
Hearst thou? and know*st thou not that voice 

adored ? 
"Tis thine own name ! He speaks — thy God and 
Lord. 

Now go, first witness and first messenger. 
Throughout the city thy glad tidings bear, 
And teach the Twelve that Christ Himself is nigh. 
And, wheresoever thou speakest, standing by. 

All loye, and praise, and majesty be Thine, 
Father, and Son, and Holy Spirit Divine; 
Quickened by whom, our bodies shall return, 
And in immortal bloom for eyer burn. 

Williams : From the Latin. 



THE CHILDHOOD OF JESUS. 



pF?XD Thou art growing up, O Child divine! 
' % While on Thy life a daily dying lies ; 
i All things that gpen on this life of Thine 



Are preludes to Thy dying agonies. 



294 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

God, born of God, Himself He fain would hide 
With a mean sire, the scorn of human pride ; 
And He who moulded heaven's o'er-arching dome, 
In a poor earthly cottage makes His home. 

Hands, that sustain the pillars of heaven's roof, 

Handle the ignoble craft of feeble man ; 
The Framer of the stars, that speed aloof, 
Himself becomes a low-housed artizan. 
Lo, He who hath the world beneath His feet, 
He at whose dread behest Archangels fleet, 
And far and wide His kingly mandates bear, 
Is subject to an humble carpenter. 

Jesu, the maiden-born, to Thee we sing — 
Father, Son, Spirit; Maker, Lord, and King; — 
Glory to Thee, when earth and heaven have gone, 
And everlasting time his course hath run. 

Williams : From the Latin. 



I LAY IT DOWN OF MYSELF. 



E wept by Lazarus' grave — how will He 
bear 
This bed of anguish ? and His pale, weak 
Is worn with many a watch [form 

Of sorrow and unrest. 



MODERN : ANONYMOUS. 295 

Oh ! fill the bowl ! benumb his aching sense 
With medicined sleep. — Oh ! awful in Thy woe ! 

The parched thirst of death 

Is on Thee, and Thou triest 

The slumberous potion bland, and wilt not drink ! 
Not sullen nor in scorn, like haughty man 

With suicidal hand 

Putting His solace by : 

But as at first, thine all-pervading look 
Saw from Thy Father's bosom to the abyss, 

Measuring in calm presage 

The infinite descent ; — 

So to the end, though now of mortal pangs 
Made heir, and emptied of Thy glory awhile, 

With unaverted eye 

Thou meetest all the storm. 

From the Latin. 



GETHSEMANE. 

HO hath believed our report ? to whom 
Hath Thine arm been reveaPd, Incar- 
nate Lord ? 
Reason confounded stands, 
And Faith silent and mute. 




2g6 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

O holy Lamb, slain ere the world was made, 
And hast Thou from Thy Father's bosom come, 

Thyself the sacrifice 

Dimly shadow'd of old ! 

But why thus laid upon the cold dank ground, 

Oh, why that look of fearful agony, 
While on Thy wan worn frame 
Thy blood stands, drop by drop ? 

It is the mighty anguish of Thy soul, 
And horror at the weight of others' crimes, 

To bear Thy Father's wrath, 

And terrors of the lost. 

It is the proffered cup Thy soul affrights : 
Ah ! if it be that Thou drink not the whole, 

We everlastingly 

Must drink, and suck the dregs ! 

But love doth master terror's agony : 

Love strong in death, and His blest Father's will ; 

Calmly He yields Himself 

To darkness and to death. 

And now unto the scourge, the twined thorn, 
The rough rude mockery, and torturing tree, 

A lamb-like victim meek, 

He bows His holy head. 




modern: anonymous. 297 

Glory to God, His only Son who gave, 
The Son who died, a living sacrifice, 

And Spirit who came down 

To light the altar flame. 

From the Latin. 



THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. 

3HITHER, Saul, this raging sense 
In thy bosom burning, 
On defenceless innocence 
All thy fury turning ? 
Other than thou hast in mind,, 
An avenger shalt thou find. 

Christ is now at hand, behold, 

Who His power defieth ? 
Where is now pursuer bold ? 

On the earth he lieth : 
And Christ's armed foe e'en now 
Shall as Christ's meek herald go. 

He, wliOj fill'd with threat'nings, sped, 

Chains and death preparing ; 
By a gentle hand is led, 

With a child-like bearing ; 



298 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Like a raging wolf he came, 
But he goes a gentle lamb. 

Lord, men's hearts in sternest mood 

Open lie before Thee; 
He who in Thy children's blood, 

Would blot out Thy glory, 
With His blood shall it rehearse 
Through the boundless universe. 

Praise the Father, by whose might 

Life to us is given ; 
And the Son, by whose blest light 

We are born to heaven ; 
And the Spirit, by whose breath 
We are saved from endless death. 

From the Latin. 



OH ! THAT I HAD WINGS LIKE A DOVE V 9 

Y soul, amid this stormy world, 

Is like some fluttered dove; 
And fain would be as swift of wing, 
To flee to Him I love. 




MODERN t ANONYMOUS. 299 

The cords that bound my heart to earth 

Are broken by His hand : 
Before His cross I found myself, 

A stranger in the land. 

That visage marrM, those sorrows deep, 

The vinegar and gall, 
Were Jesus* golden chains of love 

His captive to enthral ! 

My heart is with Him on His throne, 

And ill can brook delay; 
Each moment listening for the voice, — 

" Rise up, and come away." 

With hope deferred, oft sick and faint, 

" Why tarries He ? "I cry ; 
And should my Saviour chide my haste, 

Sure I could make reply. 

May not an exile, Lord, desire, 

His own sweet land to see ? 
May not a captive seek release, — 

A prisoner to be free ? 

A child, when far away, may long 
For home and kindred dear : 



3°0 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

And she that waits her absent Lord 
May sigh till He appear. 

I would, my Lord and Saviour, know, 
That which no measure knows ; 

Would search the mystery of Thy love,- 
The depth of all Thy woes. 



THE MAID IS NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPETH. 



EFT in her little room alone, 

The Ruler's child lay stiff and dead, 
While, vainly warm, the Syrian sun 



PlayM round her cold and silent bed ; 

While, vainly soft, from Judah's hills 
Sigh'd through the lattice the soft air, 

That could not move the close white lip, 
Nor heave again the bosom fair. 

The voice of anguish and despair 
Is loud within the chamber near, 

Of them lamenting bitterly 

Her early doom with groan and tear. 

Her mother maketh grievous moan : — 
" Ah ! had the sire more swiftly sped, 



modern: anonymous. 301 

And brought the mighty Prophet here 
Ere the last lingering breath was fled ! 

u What now avails that far away 

Comes o^er the plain his hastening tread ! 

Go tell him that he trouble not 

The Master more ; my child is dead.-" 

Dead ! is all o'er when that is said ? 

Are hope, and trust, and comfort, gone ? 
The servant tells the w r eeping sire, 

And yet the Prophet journeys on. 

He stands amid the mourning throng : 
" Why do ye make this bitter cry ? 

The damsel is not dead, she sleeps/ 5 

They laugh in scorn, — they saw her die. 

Yea, but they see not the strong power 
For life and death that standeth by, 

Nor read the awful Godhead veiPd 
Beneath that meekly patient eye. 

Go forth, then, unbelieving throng • 

The three apostles, and the twain 
Who love so tenderly, alone 

Shall see her spirit come again. 



3°2 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Now waken, waken, little maiden, 
His foot is on thy chamber-floor, 

The Lord God of the living cometh 
Thine earthly being to restore. 

He takes her cold resistless hand : — 
" Damsel, I say to thee, arise." 

Lo, life returns, with mantling flow, 
To cheek, and brow, and kindling eyes. 

She riseth up, she walketh forth, 
Her lip is red, her heart is warm ; 

He gives her to her mother's kiss, 
He gives her to her father's arm. 

Surely, we too have hope in sorrow, 
Who for our Christian brethren weep ; 

Christ is our Life and Resurrection ; 
They are not dead, they do but sleep. 

a f. h. 



THE DISCIPLE WHOM JESUS LOVED. 

pHERE lies a little lonely isle 
Where dark the salt waves run, 
And Grecian fishers dry their nets 
Against the eastern sun ; 




modern: anonymous. 303 

And, many a hundred years ago, 

Within that island fair 
There dwelt an exiled Jewish man, 

A man of reverend air ; 

His eye was bright as setting suns, 

His aged form unbent ; 
The little children following, 

He blest them as he went. 

That head beloved, at supper-time 

Had leant on Jesus' breast; 
That honoured hand had taken home 

His mother for a guest. 

That eye had seen in glorious trance 

Mysterious things to be, 
Wild visions of impending doom 

On heaven, and earth, and sea. 

His pen had writ of times to come, 

Of dearer times by-gone ; 
He was the fisher's chosen son, 

The Lord's beloved St. John. 

And he had drank his Master's cup 
So long, so patiently, 



304 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

And now he lingered there, the last, 
Till Christ should set him free. 



I wish I M lived in those old times, 

And been a Grecian child, 
To hear that old man's blessing kind, 

To meet him when he smiled. 

To hear the words of holy love 

That ever from his lips 
Fell gentle, as the evening dew 

The thirsty blossom sips. 

But love endureth through all age ; 

Nor time, nor distance drear, 
Divide the living and the dead 

Of Christ's communion dear. 

For all His saints in Him are one ; 

The exile o'er the sea, — 
The child within his English home, — 

The struggling and the free. 

The good Samt John hath rest at last ; 

He wears the promised crown ; 
And still, by the dear Church he watch'd, 

His words are handed down. 




MODERN : ANONYMOUS. S°5 

And we shall meet him, not as once, 

On that far island shore, 
But where apostles, martyrs, saints, 

Have peace for evermore. 

C. R H. 



BY WHOM THE WORLD IS CRUCIFIED TO ME, 
AND I UNTO THE WORLD/" 

JEVER further than Thy cross ! 
Never higher than Thy feet ! 
IjHeie earth's precious things seem dross, 
Here earth's bitter things seem sweet. 

Gazing thus, our sin we see ; 

Learn Thy love whilst gazing thus ; 
Sin, which laid the cross on Thee, 

Love, w T hich bore the cross for us. 

Here, from pomp and pride retired, 

Nothing we would seem to be ; 
Dust, yet with Thy life inspired ; 

Nothing, yet beloved by Thee. 

Symbols of our liberty, 

And our service, here unite ; 
Captives, by Thy cross made free ; 

Soldiers of Thy cross, w r e fight. 
20 



306 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Pressing onward as we can, 
Still to this our life shall tend : 

Where lifers earliest steps began, 
May life's latest moments end. 

Till amid the hosts of light, 

We, in Thee redeemed, complete, 

Through Thy cross made pure and bright, 
Cast our crowns before Thy feet. 



'WHO CAN FORGIVE SINS, BUT GOD ONLY?" 



NE priest alone can pardon me, 
Or bid me " Go in peace ; " 
^fegg^tfl Can breathe that word, " Absolvo te," 

And make these heart-throbs cease : 
My soul hath heard His priestly voice; 
It said, €t I bore thy sins, — rejoice ! " 

He showed the spear-mark in His side, 

The nail-print on His palm ; 
Said, " Look on me, the crucified ; 

Why tremble thus ? Be calm ! 
All power is mine — I set thee free, — 
Be not afraid — Absolvo te/" 



MODERN : ANONYMOUS. 307 

In chains of sin once tied and bound, 

I walk in life and light ; 
Each spot I tread is hallowM ground 

Whilst Him I keep in sight, 
Who died a victim on the tree,, 
That He might say, " Absolvo te." 

By Him my soul is purified, 

Once leprous and defiled, 
Cleansed in the fountain from His side, 

God sees me as a child : 
No priest can heal or cleanse but He ; 
No other say, " Absolvo te." 

He robed me in a priestly dress 

That I might incense bring, 
Of prayer and praise and righteousness, 

To heaven* s Eternal King : 
And when He gave this robe to me, 
He smiled and said, " Absolvo te." 

In heaven He stands before the throne, 

The great High Priest above, 
Ci Melchisedec," — that name alone 

Can sin's dark stain remove : 
To Him I look on bended knee, 
And hear that sweet — " Absolvo te." 
20 * 



308 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

A girded Levite here below, 

I willing service bring, 
And fain would tell to all I know 

Of Christy the Priestly King : 
Would win all hearts from sin to flee, 
And hear Him say, " Absolvo te." 

A little while, and He shall come 

Forth from the inner shrine, 
To call His pardonM brethren home ; 

O bliss supreme, divine ! 
When every blood- bought child shall see 
The Priest who said, " Absolvo te." 

C. S. 



THOU SHALT STAND IN THY LOT AT THE END 
OF THE DAYS." 




NELL of departed years, 
Thy voice is sweet to me : 
It wakes no sad foreboding fears, 
Calls forth no sympathetic tears, 
Time's restless course to see; 
From hallow' d ground 
I hear the sound, 
Diffusing through the air a holy calm around. 



modern: anonymous. 309 

Thou art the voice of love, 

To chide each doubt away; 
And as thy murmur faintly dies, 
Visions of past enjoyment rise 
In long and bright array; 
I hail the sign 
That love divine 
Will o'er my future path in cloudless mercy shine. 

Thou art the voice of hope ; 

The music of the spheres, 
A song of blessings yet to come, 
A herald from my future home, 
My soul delighted hears : 
By sin deceived, 
By nature grieved, 
Still am I nearer rest than when I first believed. 

Thou art the voice of life : 

A sound which seems to say, 
O prisoner in this gloomy vale ! 
Thy flesh shall faint, thy heart shall fail ; 
Yet fairer scenes thy spirit hail 
That cannot pass away : 
Here grief and pain 
Thy steps detain, 
There, in the image of the Lord, shalt thou with 
Jesus reign. 




3 IQ THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



ss MIGHTY TO SAVE. 

N Jesu's book I bear 
A more than conqueror's name r 
A soldier, son, and fellow-heir, 
Who fought and overcame. 

His be the victor's name, 
Who fought our fight alone ; 
Triumphant saints no honour claim, 
Their conquest was His own. 

By weakness and defeat, 
He won the meed and crown ; 
Trod all our foes beneath His feet, 
By being trodden down. 

He, hell, in hell laid low; 
Made sin, He sin overthrew ; 
Bow'd to the grave, destroyed it so, 
And death, by dying, slew. 

Bless, bless the Conqueror slain ! 
Slain in His victory ! 
Who lived, who died, who lives again 
For thee, His Church, for thee ! 



MODERN : ANONYMOUS. 3 1 1 



THE PEACE OF GOD WHICH PASSETH ALL 

UNDERSTANDING." 




MK 



jHE world with stones, instead of 
bread, 
Our hungry souls has often fed ; 
It promised health, — in one short hour 
Perished the fair but fragile flower ; 
It promised riches, — in a day 
They made them wings and fled away ; 
It promised friends, — all sought their own, 
And left my widowM heart alone. 

Lord ! with the barren service spent, 
To Thee my suppliant knee I bent ; 
And found in Thee a Father's grace, 
His hand, His heart, His faithfulness ; 
The voice of peace, the smile of love, 
The bread which feeds the saints above ; 
And tasted in this world of woe, 
A joy its children never know. 



312 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 




u FOOLS MAKE A MOCK AT SIN ! " 

3H0 laughs at sin, laughs at his Maker's 
frowns ; 
Laughs at the sword of vengeance o'er 
his head ; 
Laughs at the great Redeemer's tears and wounds, 
Who, but for sin, had never wept or bled. 

Who laughs at sin, laughs at the numerous woes 
Which have the guilty world so oft befell ; 

Laughs at the whole creation's groans and throes, — 
At all the spoils of death, and pains of hell. 

Who laughs at sin, laughs at his own disease; 

Welcomes approaching torments with his smiles ; 
Dares at his soul's expense his fancy please, 

Affronts his God, himself of bliss beguiles. 

Who laughs at sin, sports at his guilt and shame ; 

Laughs at the errors of his senseless mind : 
For so absurd a fool, there wants a name, 

Expressive of a folly so refined. 



modern: anonymous. 313 




IF YE WALK IN THE LIGHT/' 

ALK in the light ! so shalt thou know 
That fellowship of love, 
His Spirit only can bestow 
Who reigns in light above. 
Walk in the light ! and sin abhorr'd 

Shall ne'er defile again; 
The blood of Jesus Christ the Lord 
Shall cleanse from every stain. 

Walk in the light ! and thou shalt find 

Thy heart made truly His, 
Who dwells in cloudless light enshrined, 

In whom no darkness is. 
Walk in the light ! and thou shalt own 

Thy darkness passM away, 
Because that light hath on thee shone, 

In which is perfect day. 

Walk in the light ! and e'en the tomb 

No fearful shade shall wear; 
Glory shall chase away its gloom, 

For Christ hath conquered there ! 




314 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Walk in the light ! and thou shalt see 
A path, though thorny, bright • 

For God by grace shall dwell in thee, 
And God Himself is light. 



"ALL YE THAT LABOUR AND ARE HEAVY LADEN/ 

;ITH tearful eyes I look around; 

Life seems a dark and stormy sea ; 
Yet 'midst the gloom I hear a sound, 
A heavenly whisper, Come to Me ! 

It tells me of a place of rest ; 

It tells me where my soul may flee : 
Oh ! to the weary, faint, opprest, 

How sweet the bidding, Come to Me ! 

When the poor heart with anguish learns 
That earthly props resigned must be, 

And from each broken cistern turns, 
It hears the accents, Come to Me ! 

When against sin I strive in vain, 
And cannot from its yoke get free, 

Sinking beneath the heavy chain, 
The words arrest me, Come to Me ! 



modern: anonymous. 315 

When nature shudders, loth to part 

From all I love, enjoy, and see; 
When a faint chill steals o'er my heart, 

A sweet voice utters, Come to Me ! 

Come, for all else must fail and die; 

Earth is no resting-place for thee, 
Heavenward direct thy weeping eye; 

I am thy Portion, Come to Me ! 

O voice of mercy, voice of love ! 

In conflict, grief, and agony, 
Support me, cheer me from above, 

And gently whisper^ Come to Me ! 



LORD, THOU KNOWEST ALL THINGS." 

i'HOU knowest, Lord, the weariness and 
sorrow 
Of the sad heart that comes to Thee for 
rest ; 
Cares of to-day, and burdens for to-morrow, 

Blessings implored, and sins to be confessed. 
I come before Thee at Thy gracious word, 

And lay them at Thy feet, Thou knowest, Lord. 




316 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Thou knowest all the past ; how long and blindly 
On the dark mountains the lost sheep had 
stray' d : 
How the good Shepherd followed, and how kindlv 

He bore it home, upon His shoulders laid, 
And healM the bleeding wounds, and sooth' d the 

pain, 
And brought back life and hope and strength 
again. 

Thou knowest all the present ; each temptation, 
Each to ; Isome duty, each foreboding fear ; 

All to myself assignM of tribulation, 

Or to beloved ones, than self more dear ; 

All pensive memories, as I journey on, 

Longings for vanished smiles and voices gone. 

Thou knowest all the future ; gleams of gladness 
By stormy clouds too quickly overcast, 

Hours of sweet fellowship and parting sadness, 
And the dark river to be crossed at last. 

O what could hope and confidence afford 

To tread that path, but this — Thou knowest, Lord ? 




modern: anonymous. 317 

UNTO YOU, O MENj I CALL/" 

?OD calling yet ! and shall I never 
hearken, 
But still earth's witcheries my spirit 
darken ? 
This passing life, these passing joys, all flying, 
And still my soul in dreamy slumbers lying ! 

God calling yet ! and I not yet arising, 
So long His loving, faithful voice despising, 
So falsely His unwearied care repaying, — 
He calls me still, and still I am delaying. 

God calling yet ! loud at my door is knocking, 
And I my heart, my ear, still firmer locking, 
He still is ready, willing to receive me, 
Is waiting now, but, ah ! He soon may leave me. 

God calling yet ! and I no answer giving ; 
I dread His yoke, and am in bondage living; 
Too long I linger, but not yet forsaken, 
He calls me still ; oh, my poor heart, awaken ! 

Ah! yield Him all, all to His care confiding; 
Where but with Him are rest and peace abiding ? 
Unloose, unloose, break earthly bonds asunder, 
And let this spirit rise in soaring wonder ! 



31 8 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

God calling yet ! I can no longer tarry, 

Nor to my God a heart divided carry. 

Now,, vain and giddy world, your spells are 

broken — 
Sweeter than all, the voice of God has spoken ! 
Tersteegen [Hymns from the Land of Luther). 



'MY SHEEP HEAR MY VOICE, AND I KNOW THEM, 
AND THEY FOLLOW ME. W 

ES, our Shepherd leads, with gentle 
hand, 
Through the dark pilgrim-land, 
His flock so dearly bought, 
So long and fondly sought. 

When in clouds and mist the weak ones stray, 
He shows again the way, 
And points to them afar 
A bright and guiding star. 

Tenderly He watches from on high 
With an unwearied eye ; 
He comforts and sustains 
In all their fears and pains. 




MODERN I ANONYMOUS. 319 

Through the parchM, dreary desert He will guide, 
To the green fountain side ; 
Through the dark, stormy night, 
To a calm land of light. 

Yes ! his u little flock " are ne'er forgot ; 

His mercy changes not ; 

Our home is safe above 

Within His arms of love. Hallelujah ! 
Krummacher [Hymns from the Land of Luther). 




GO NOT FAR FROM ME, O LORD. 

Y heart is fiVd, O God, my strength, 
My heart is strong to bear : 
I will be joyful in Thy love, 
And peaceful in Thy care : 
Deal with me for my Saviour's sake, 
According to His prayer. 

But go not far from me, my strength, 

Whom all my times obey; 
Take from me anything Thou wilt, 

But go not Thou away ; 



32C THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

And let the storm that doth Thy work, 
Deal with me as it may. 

There is no death for me to fear, 
For Christ, my Lord, hath died; 

There is no curse in this my pain, 
For He was crucified ; 

And it is fellowship with Him, 
That keeps me near His side. 

Happy are they that learn in Thee, 
Though patient suffering teach 

The secret of enduring strength, 
And praise too deep for speech ; 

Praise that no pressure from without. 
No strife within can reach. 



AND ONE SAT ON THE THRONE. 

P ! at Thy feet Thy children fall, 
Spirit ! Redeemer ! God ! 
Thou hast, we know, a heart for all 
Thy saints, who in life's ordeal 
Have o'er the ploughshares trod ! 




modern: anonymous. 321 

Who would approach Thee in Thy mip'ht 

Of power? self-citadePd, 
If the three- chorded arch, whose height 
O'ercrowns Thee with its chrysolite, 

Should glitter unbeheld ! 

But lo ! Hope beams above Thy head, 

That everlasting door, 
Through which the humblest prayer is sped, 
That ever, from a heart that bled, 

Was utterM by the poor. 

Father, Thou knowest what we seek, 

Why tangle it with words ? 
We leave it to our souls to speak, 
In quivering eye and kindling cheek ; 

Such language is the Lord's ! 

For ransom' d suppliants, 'tis vain 

To sever praise from prayer ; 
Our lips, if parted to complain, 
Find, as they open, that a strain 

Of gratitude is there ! 

But oh ! the glory of that ray, 
We veil our eyes before : 
21 



321 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

The only homage we can pay 
Is just to look and turn away, 
To whisper and adore ! 



HOLD THOU ME UP, AND I SHALL BE SAFE. 




EAR me, O my Saviour, stand 

In every trying hour; 
Guard me with Thine outstretched 
hand, 
And hold me by Thy power ; 
Mindful of Thy faithful word, 
All-sufficient grace bestow, 
Keep me, keep me, blessed Lord, 
And never let me go. 

Give me, Lord, a holy fear. 

And fix it in my heart, 
That I may from evil near 

With speedy steps depart; 
Still Thy timely help afford, 

All Thy lovingkindness show, 
Keep me, keep me, blessed Lord, 

And never let me go. 



MODERN I ANONYMOUS. 323 

Never let me go till I, 

Upborne on wings of love. 
Reach the blessed shore on high, 

And take my seat above ; 
Thou hast pass'd Thy gracious word, 

Safely, Lord, to bring me through ; 
Thou wilt, therefore, keep me, Lord, 

And never let me go. 



I AM THE LORD, I CHANGE NOT. 




HANGE is our portion here ! 
Soon fades the summer sky, 
The landscape droops in autumn sere, 
And spring- flowers bloom to die ; 
But faithful is Jehovah's word, 
" I will be with thee/' saith the Lord. 

Change is our portion here ! 

E'en in the heavenly road, 
In faith, and hope, and holy fear, 

In love towards our God ; 
How often we distrust that word, 

" I will be with thee," saith the Lord. 

21* 



3^4 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

Change is our portion here ! 

Yet midst our changing lot. 
Midst withering flowers and tempests drear, 

There is that changes not; 
Unchangeable Jehovah's word, 
" I will be with thee/' saith the Lord. 

Changeless the way of peace; 

Changeless Emmanuel's name; 
Changeless the covenant of grace, 

Eternally the same ; 
"I change not/' is our Father's word; 
" Thou art my portion/' Holy Lord ! 



HE HATH PREPARED FOR THEM A CITY. 

jjOPE of the coming glory 
Is balm to the distress'd, 
Is medicine in sickness, 
Is love, and life, and rest. 
To that bright blessed country, 
Our eyes with longing turn ; 
At mention of its blessings 
Our hearts within us burn. 




MODERN : ANONYMOUS. ^2j 

A one abiding city ! 

A kingdom full of joy ! 
Where tears are ever banish' d, 

And sorrow can't alloy. 
Thou hast no need of moon-beam, 

Nor e'en of sunshine bright : 
God is Himself thy glory, 

The Lamb Himself thy light. 

Beside thy living waters, 

That pure and crystal river, 
The tree of life doth flourish, 

Which yields her fruit for ever. 
There all our yearnings centre, 

There we shall surely come ; 
There see God's face for ever, 

And serve Him in our home. 



THOU ART MY PORTION, O LORD 



l» 




HAVE a heritage of joy, 
That yet I must not see, 
The hand that bled to make it mine 
Is keeping it for me. 



3^6 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 

I have a certainty of love 
That sets my heart at rest, 

A calm assurance for to-day, 
That to be thus is best. 

A prayer reposing on His truth, 
Who hath made all things mine, 

That draws my captive will to Him, 
And makes it one with Thine. 

My heart is resting, O my God, 

My heart is in Thy care; 
I hear the voice of joy and health 

Resounding everywhere. 

" Thou art my portion," saith my soul- 
" Amen" sweet voices say ; 

The music of that glad Amen 
Will never die away. 



THAT WHERE I AM, YE MAY BE ALSO. 

OVE craves the presence and the sight 
Of all its well-beloved ; 
And therefore weep we in the homes 
Whence they are far removed ; 




modern: anonymous. 327 

Love craves the presence and the sight 

Of each beloved one ; 
And therefore Jesus spake the word 

Which calPd them to the throne. 

Thus heaven is gathering, one by one, 

In its capacious breast, 
All that is pure and permanent, 

And beautiful and blest ; 
The family is scattered yet, 

Though of one home and heart ; 
Part militant in earthly gloom, 

In heavenly glory part. 

But who can speak the rapture, when 

The number is complete ; 
And all the children sunder 5 d now, 

Around one Father meet. 
One fold, one Shepherd, one employ, 

One everlasting home : 
" Lo ! I come quickly : " Even so ; 

Amen ! Lord Jesus, come. 



3 28 



THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 



YET A LITTLE WHILE/ 




NE sweet but solemn thought 

Comes o'er me more and more ; 
I'm nearer to my home to-day 
Then e'er I was before. 

Nearer my Father's house 
Where many mansions be ; 
Nearer the rainbow-compass' d throne, 
Nearer the jasper sea. 

Nearer the bound of life, 
Where burdens are laid down : 
Nearer the last step with the cross, 
Nearer the fadeless crown. 



Nearer the last shed tear, 
Nearer life's parting groan; 
Nearer the presence of my God, 
And pleasures all unknown. 



MODERN : ANONYMOUS. 3 2 9 

Nearer this long night's close-, 

Nearer death's final strife, 
Nearer the coming cloudless morn, 

Nearer eternal life. 

,This sweetly solemn thought 

Each day doth comfort me, 
I'm nearer to my Father's house ; 

Jesus ! I'm nearer Thee. 



INDEX. 



A bright-hair'd company of youthful slaves 
A saint ! Oh would that I could claim 
A spirit pass'd before me : I beheld 
Abide with me ! Fast falls the eventide 
Ah ! when did wisdom covet length of days 
Ah ! whither shall I fly ? what path untrod 
And Thou art growing up, O Child divine ! 
Art thou weary ? art thou languid 
Ask the bird that soars on high 
Awake, sweet harp of Judah, wake 

Behold ! the mountain of the Lord 

Behold the sun, that seem'd but now 

Beneath our feet and o'er our head 

Birds have their quiet nest 

Bless God, my soul ! — Thou, Lord, alone 

Blest pair of Syrens, pledges of heaven's joy 

Brother, thou art gone before us 

But whence came they who for the Saviour Lord 



Change is our portion here 
Cheer up, desponding soul 
Child of man, whose seed below 
Child of the dust ! if e'er thine eye 
Christ, whose glory fills the skies 
Come, my fond, fluttering heart 
Come, my soul, Thy suit prepare 



PAGE. 

179 

*43 
148 

J 97 
141 

32 

2 93 
278 
188 
J 39 

i33 
21 

M4 

252 

5* 

37 

231 

179 

3 2 3 
60 
158 
*77 
94 
168 
130 



INDEX. 



33* 



Come, O Thou Traveller unknown 
Come, see the place where Jesus lies 
Commit thou all thy griefs 
Creator Spirit, by whose aid 

Dark was my lot, and long it spurn'd 

Fair sea ! whose lines of rolling wave 

Faith, like a simple, unsuspecting child 

Fallen is thy throne, O Israel . . 

Far down the ages now 

Far from the world, O Lord ! I flee 

Father, I know that all my life 

Fear was within the tossing bark 

Fierce was the wild billow 5 dark was the night 

For thee, O dear, dear country 

Friend after friend departs 

From Olivet's sequester'd seats 

Give to the winds thy fears 

Glorious Shepherd of the sheep 

God calling yet ! and shall I never hearken 

God is our refuge, our strong tower 

Grace does not steel the faithful heart 

Great, without controversy great 

Hail to the Lord's Anointed 

Happiness ! thou lovely name . . 

He wept by Lazarus' grave— how will He bear 

Hear me, O God ! 

Help, Lord, to whom for help I fly 

Her eyes are homes of silent prayer 

High on His everlasting throne 

Hope of the coming glory 

How sweet shall be the incense of my prayer ! 

Hues of the rich unfolding morn 



33* 



INDE? 



I have a heritage of joy . . 

I heard the voice of Jesus say 
I sing the birth was born to-night 
I the good fight have fought 
I think that look of Christ might seem to say 
I thirst, Thou wounded Lamb of God 
In age and feebleness extreme 
In all extremes, Lord, Thou art still 
In every object here I see 
In heavenly love abiding 
In Jesu's book I bear 
In the hour of my distress 
Interval of grateful shade 
It came upon the midnight clear 
It is a place where poets crown 
decaying 



d may feel the heart 



Jesu, thy blood and righteousness 
Jesus, and shall it ever be ! 
Jesus, cast a look on me 
Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone 
Jesus, Thy Church with longing eyes 
Jesus, while he dwelt below 
Just as I am, without one plea 

Knell of departed years 

Leaves have their time to fall . . 

Left in her little room alone 

Like to the falling of a star 

Lo ! at Thy feet Thy children fall 

Long plunged in sorrow, I resign 

Lord, a happy child of Thine . . 

" Lord, and what shall this man do ? " 

Lord, I feel a carnal mind 



INDEX. 



Lord, it belongs not to my care 

Lord, many times I am a weary quite 

Lord of earth ! Thy forming hand 

Lord, what is man ? why should he cost Thee 

Love craves the presence and the sight 

Man of sorrows, and acquainted 

My Father and my God 

My God, it is not fretfulness . . 

My God, my Father, blissful name 

My God, to keep my heart 

My heart is fix'd, O God, my strength 

My soul, amid this stormy world 

My soul, there is a country 

My spirit longeth for Thee 

My stock lies dead, and no increase 

Near me, O my Saviour, stand 
Never further than Thy cross 
No, I would not always live 
Not seldom, clad in radiant vest 
Now doth the sun appear 

O day of rest and gladness 

O God unseen, but not unknown 

O Lord, turn not Thy face away 

O lovely voices of the sky 

O that my heart was right with Thee 

O Thou great power ! in whom I move 

O Thou, whose tender feet have trod 

•O Zion ! when I think on thee 

Of all the thoughts of God that are 

Oh, cling not, Trembler, to life's fragile bark 

Oh for a closer walk with God 

Oh ! where shall rest be found 



334 



INDEX. 



On the proud banks of great Euphrates' flood 
One Priest alone can pardon me 
One there is, above all others 
One sweet but solemn thought 

Plead Thou — oh plead my cause ! 
Prayer is the soul's sincere desire 

Quiet, Lord, my froward heart 

Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings 

Servant of God, well done ! 
Shrinking from the cold hand of death 
So many years I've seen the sun 
Some murmur, when their sky is clear 
Soon and for ever, — such promise our trust 
Supreme High-Priest, the pilgrim's light 
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright 
Sweet is the Spirit's strain 
Sweetest Saviour, if my soul 

Teach me, my God and King . . 

That I am Thine, my Lord and God 

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold 

The day is past and over 

The days and years of time are fled 

The glories of my blood and state 

The God of glory dwells on high 

The God of Abraham praise . . 

The last loud trumpet's wondrous sound 

The Lord my pasture shall prepare 

The path of sorrow, and that path alone 

The roseate hues of early dawn 

The Saviour look'd on Peter. Ay, no word 



INDEX. 



335 



The seas are quiet when the winds are o'er 

The wind blows chill across those gloomy waves 

The world can neither give nor take 

The world with stones, instead of bread 

Thee will I love, my strength and tower 

There is a safe and secret place 

There is a state unknown, unseen 

There lies a little lonely isle 

There was joy in heaven ! 

This shadow on the dial's face 

Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore 

thee 
Thou art gone up on high 
Thou God of glorious majesty . . 
Thou hidden love of God, whose height 
Thou knowest, Lord, the weariness and sorrow 
Thou thrice denied, yet thrice beloved 
Though some good things of lower worth 
Through sorrow's night and danger's path 
Throw away Thy rod 
Thy way, not mine, O Lord 
'Tis finish'd! — Every circumstance fuliill'd 
'Tis gone, that bright and orbed blaze 
'Tis not too hard, too high an aim 
To conquer and to save, the Son of God 
To love, where love is shown to me 

Wages of sin is death : the day is come 
Wait, O my soul, thy Maker's will 
Walk in the light ! so shalt thou know 
Weak and irresolute is man 
Weary of wandering from my God 
What is this passing scene ? 
What various hindrances we meet 
When at thy footstool, Lord, I bend 



33 6 



INDEX. 



a-yj 



When darkness long has veiPd my mind . . 

When Faith and Love, which parted from thee never 

When first thy eyes unveil, give thy soul leave 

When God at first made man 

When God of old came down from heaven 

When I consider how my light is spent 

When Israel, of the Lord beloved 

When Jordan hush'd his waters still 

When languor and disease invade 

When Lazarus left his charnel-cave 

When this passing world is done 

Where high the heavenly temple stands 

Where the faded flower shall freshen 

Where- the remote Bermudas ride 

Whither, Saul, this raging sense 

Who hath believed our report ? to whom . . 

Who laughs at sin, laughs at his Maker's frowns 

Who knows, when he to go from home 

Why for thy Lord dost thou thus weep and mourn 

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun . . 

With tearful eyes I look around 

Yes, for me, for me, He careth 

Yes, our Shepherd leads, with gentle hand 



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249 
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JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS. 



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